[jnder  the 
Vjagnolias 


OT-DORMAN 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


UNDER  THE 

MAGNOLIAS 


BY 

C.  T.  DORMAN 


THE 


Sibbcy  Press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 
FIFTH  AVENUE 

Condon  NEW  YORK  montreal 


Copyright,  1902, 

by 
THE 

Hbbey  Press 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAGB 

Financial  Rviin 1 

CHAPTER  II. 
Breaking  Home  Ties 20 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Farmer's  Welcome  in  Louisiana 37 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Southward  Bound 48 

CHAPTER  V. 
Looking  Backward , 62 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Blighted  Hopes 76 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Magnolias 98 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Refuge 101 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Making  New  Friends 116 

CHAPTER  X. 
Daddy  Mack 140 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Holy  Dance 154 


550188 


iv  Contents. 

CHAPTER  XII.  FAOB 

Complications 167 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  Confession 193 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Estrangement 206 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Conclusion. .  228 


UNDER  THE  MAGNOLIAS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FINANCIAL     RUIN. 

"By  my  faith,  you  have  great  reason  to  be  sad" 

"And  why,  I  pray  you.     Who  might  be  your  mother  that  you 
insult,  exult,  and  all  at  once  over  the  wretched." 

—"As  You  Like  It." 

THE  autumn  leaves  were  slowly  drifting  into  gay- 
colored  heaps  in  the  hollows  and  at  the  roots  of  the 
trees,  as  leaves  will  always  do  when  touched  by  the 
first  light  frost.  A  sad,  low  wind  had  come  up  with 
the  twilight,  and  a  dark  cloud  in  the  northwest  soon 
spread  rapidly  over  the  sky,  so  lately  flushed  with  sun 
set  tints  of  pink  and  gold. 

"How  much  like  the  life  of  man,"  thought  Mr. 
Melton,  as  he  slowly  walked  from  the  barn  to  the 
pretty  cottage  which  had  been  his  home1  for  twenty- 
five  happy  years.  The  cloud  in  his  own  sky  which  had, 
at  first,  appeared  no  larger  than  a  man's  hand,  now 


2  Under  the  Magnolias. 

seemed  a  thick  curtain  that  excluded  all  the  sunlight 
from  his  view. 

The  air  was  growing  chill,  and  he  must  go  indoors, 
but  that  which  in  other  days  was  the  sweetest  pleasure 
of  his  life,  now  seemed  unendurable  to  him.  To  many 
a  man  it  requires  more  courage  to  go  to  a  loved  wife 
and  unfold  a  reverse  of  fortune  than  to  face  death  on 
the  battlefield.  It  was  thus  Mr.  Melton  felt,  and  his 
case  was  but  the  repetition  of  many  others.  If  he 
could  only  bear  his  troubles  alone,  he  argued  to  him 
self,  he  would  not  care,  but  to  involve  in  it  those  he 
loved  so  much,  was  hard  indeed.  He  went  slowly  up 
the  walk,  thinking  of  the  happy  past;  back  to  the 
day  when  he  had  proudly  brought  sweet  Mary  May- 
field  to  be  the  mistress  of  his  home  near  the  village 
of  Glenwood.  He  thought  what  a  good  wife  she  had 
proved  to  be  in  all  those  years  of  toil  for  himself  and 
their  children.  In  the  great  trials  of  his  life  she  had 
ever  been  his  chief  comfort.  Three  of  their  children 
had  died  in  infancy,  and  it  was  this  faithful  wife  who 
had  whispered  words  of  consolation  to  him  while  her 
own  heart  was  breaking. 

All  these  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind  as  he 
traversed  the  short  distance  between  the  gate  and 
the  steps.  Before  he  reached  the  porch,  he1  turned 
aside  to  cut  off  some  withered  roses  which  an  early 
frost  had  blighted. 

"This  garden  is  the  work  of  her  own  hands,"  he 
said  in  a  low  tone  to  himself,  "but  she'll  never  gather 
roses  here  again,  for  another  year,  stranger  hands  will 
tend  this  flower  garden." 


Financial  Ruin.  3 

It  was  not  only  of  his  wife  h'e  thought,  but  also  of 
Evelyn,  his  lovely  daughter,  now  just  expanded  into 
perfect  womanhood.  It  was  his  pride  in  her  and  his  de 
light  in  her  pleasure,  that  had  brought  him  into  the 
straits  in  which  he  now  found  himself.  He  had  sent  her 
to  schools  at  which  only  rich  men  could  afford  to  educate 
their  daughters;  had  gratified  her  wishes  far  beyond 
his  moderate  means,  and  now,  this  very  day,  he  had 
been  notified  that  unless  his  notes  were  paid,  there 
would  be  a  foreclosure  of  the  mortgage  on  their  home. 

Banishing  the  thoughts  of  the  past  from  his  mind, 
he  compressed  his  lips  with  strong  determination,  and 
entered  the  sitting-room,  where  his  wife  was  seated, 
busily  engaged  in  knitting.  Her  bright,  smiling  face 
was  a  strong  contrast  to  the  troubled  countenance  of 
her  husband. 

A  fire  burned  brightly  on  the  hearth,  adding  no  little 
to  the  cozy  appearance  of  the  living  room  of  the  family. 
Mrs.  Melton  looked  up  as  her  husband  entered;  then 
quickly  rising,  she  drew  his  easy-chair  nearer  the  fire, 
with  affectionate  solicitude.  She  instantly  noted  the 
look  of  deep  dejection  on  his  face,  but  wisely  forebore' 
to  question  him,  knowing  that  he  would  open  his  heart 
to  her  in  his  own  way  and  time. 

The  silence  between  them  was  unbroken  for  some 
moments,  but  at  length,  with  a  great  effort  for  com 
posure,  he  began: 

"Mary,  I  have  some  bad  news  to  tell  you  that  you 
should  have  known  long  ago,  but  I  kept  thinking  it 
would  come  out  all  right  in  the  end,  and  I  would  never 
have  to  trouble  you  with  what  has  given  me  more  dis- 


4  Under  the  Magnolias. 

tress  than  anything  that  has  ever  happened  to  me  be 
fore.  Now  I  am  forced  to  tell  you,  and — may  God  help 
you  to  bear  it !" 

He  sighed  deeply,  but  did  not  give  his  wife  time  for 
reply  before  he  resumed,  gloomily:  "I  always  thought 
it  a  foolish  and  useless  practice  for  a  man  to  burden  his 
wife  with  his  troubles,  but  now  I  see  my  mistake.  I 
don't  know,  though,  that  it  would  have  been  any  better, 
Mary,  if  I  had  told  you  before. 

"When  the  time  drew  near  for  Evelyn  to  leave  home 
for  her  last  term  at  college,  I  was  so  pressed  for  money 
that  I  was  strongly  tempted  to  tell  her  that  she  would 
have  to  give  it  up.  But  after  watching  her  bright  face 
as  she  told  her  plans  of  the  great  things  she  would  do, 
my  heart  failed  me,  and  I  followed  the  example  of 
many  another  weak  man.  I  went  to  old  Mr.  Heming 
way,  and  mortgaged  my  farm  for  the  money  necessary 
to  pay  her  expenses  at  college.  I  was  not  morally 
strong  enough  to  face  the  disappointment  it  would 
give'  my  darling  girlie  to  stop  her  from  finishing  her 
education.  Now  I  will  not  have  a  home  to  shelter  my 
family,  not  to  speak  of  a  competency  for  our  old  age 
and  something  to  leave  Evelyn  when  we  die.  I  have 
'sowed  the  wind  and  now  I  shall  reap  the  whirlwind,' " 
and  he  groaned  as  he  looked  into  the  dark  future. 

"People  hardly  ever  end  right  by  beginning  wrong, 
but  I  thought  that  by  working  a  little  harder  and  being 
a  little  more  economical,  I  could  soon  catch  up  in 
money  matters,  and  you  and  Evelyn  need  never  know 
the  distress  I  had  been  through  in  this  thing.  But  af 
fairs  did  not  turn  out  as  I  hoped  they  would,  and  one 


Financial  Ruin.  5 

thing  and  another  set  me  back  until  at  times  I  almost 
despaired.  Those  two  bad  crop  years,  with  my  long 
spell  of  rheumatism,  with  the  heavy  doctor's  bills,  and 
the  high  interest  on  my  notes,  ha-ve  literally  ruined 
me,  Mary,"  and  the  farmer  leaned  wearily  back  in  his 
chair. 

"Is  the  farm  mortgaged  for  all  it  is  worth?"  asked 
his  wife. 

"Yes,  for  all  it  will  bring  at  a  forced  sale.  I  have 
always  kept  the  interest  paid,  and  hoped  some  day  to 
be  able  to  lift  the  mortgage,  but  the  death  of  old  Mr. 
Hemingway  put  an  end  to  these  hopes.  His  nephew, 
who  has  come  into  the  estate,  is  a  very  different  man 
from  his  uncle,  people  say." 

"Is  he  the  young  man  who  has  called  here  several 
times  lately  to  see  Evelyn?" 

"Yes,  the  same  man;  has  reddish  hair  and  is  rather 
good-looking,  but  is  wofully  puffed  up  with  importance 
since  he  has  come  in  possession  of  so  much  property. 
I  never  thought  he  would  want  our  farm,  though,  as  he 
has  so  many  of  them,  and  we  paying  the  interest  regu 
larly,  too.  But  he  intimated  in  rather  a  delicate  way 
this  evening,  that  he  would  be  forced  to  do  me  as  he 
has  been  doing  all  the  other  farmers  on  whose  farms 
he  held  mortgages — foreclose.  They  say  he  has  no 
mercy  on  those  who  owe  him.  It  just  cut  me  to  the 
quick  for  him  to  even  hint  such  a  thing  to  me,  Mary ; 
I,  who  have  always  been  so  independent.  If  he  thinks 
I  am  going  to  beg  him  for  mercy,  or  offer  him  my 
daughter  for  a  wife,  he's  mistaken/'  Mr.  Melton  said, 
with  unusual  emphasis. 


6  Under  the   Magnolias. 

Mrs.  Melton  rose,  and,  going  to  her  husband's  side, 
laid  her  hand  tenderly  on  his,  as  she  said : 

"Henry,  I  do  not  blame  you  in  the  least  for  what 
you  have  done.  I  have  no  doubt  I  would  have  done  the 
same  thing  had  I  been  in  your  place.  But  cheer  up, 
dear;  we  can  find  a  home  somewhere  else,  and  though 
it  may  be  ever  so  humble  we  will  try  to  be  content,  for 
where  the  heart  is,  that  is  home." 

"Ah,  my  poor  wife,  you  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  be 
shelterless,  and  that,  too,  at  the  beginning  of  a  hard 
winter,"  Mr.  Melton  responded,  gloomily. 

"We  will  put  our  trust  in  the  God  who  'clothes  the 
lilies  of  the  field'  and  shelters  the  sparrow  in  her  nest," 
gently  replied  his  wife. 

It  was  the  same  old  story  of  the  weaker  vessel  riding 
bravely  through  the  tempest  that  made  the  strong  man- 
of-war  creak  and  groan  in  every  timber. 

The  farmer  had  thought  so  long  over  his  difficulties 
that  he  had  grown  morbid  on  the  subject.  He  had 
pictured  to  himself  that  the  disclosure  of  his  trouble 
would  crush  his  wife  and  daughter  to  the  earth  with 
sorrow  and  dismay.  He  had  put  off  from  day  to  day, 
the  ordeal  of  telling  his  family  of  his  financial  condi 
tion,  in  the  vain  hope  that  something  would  occur  to 
delay  the  evil  time.  Now  that  it  was  over,  he  felt 
wonderfully  relieved;  and  the  hope  that  springs  eternal 
in  the  human  heart  once  more  began  to  illumine  his 
clouded  horizon. 

He  sat  for  some  time  absorbed  in  deep  thought,  then 
slowly  remarked :  "Mary,  I'll  leave  you  to  tell  Evelyn. 
You  women  can  do  such  things  better  than  men." 


Financial  Ruin.  7 

Mrs.  Melton  drew  a  chair  near  her  husband,  and 
seating  herself,  held  his  hand  in  a  warm,  sympathetic 
clasp. 

Evelyn  was  sitting  in  the  little  room  that  she  had 
fitted  up  as  a  library  since  her  last  homecoming.  While 
there  reading,  she  had  heard  her  father  come  in,  the 
door  being  ajar  between  the  two  rooms.  She  was  struck 
with  the  sadness  of  his  tone  and  listened,  as  one  in  a 
dark  dream,  to  the  recital  of  his  losses.  She  could 
scarcely  take  in  the  whole  import  of  the  sorrowful 
fctory.  To  think  that  the  education  and  high  culture, 
of  which  she  was,  justly,  so  proud,  had  been  attained 
at  the  cost  of  the  home  in  which  her  parents  had  hoped 
to  spend  their  declining  years,  made  her  heart  sick. 
That  they  would  now  have  to  give  it  up  seemed  impos 
sible.  It  could  not  be  so  bad  as  that. 

She1  could  not  think;  she  only  felt  as  if  she  wanted 
to  run  away  and  hide  out  of  sight  of  anyone.  She 
quietly  slipped  out  of  the  library,  through  the  hall  and 
porch,  down  a  path  leading  into  the  orchard.  She 
walked  rapidly  on  to  where,  at  the  back  of  the  en 
closure,  stood  an  old  apple  tree. 

Under  that  tree  she  had  spent  many  happy  hours 
in  her  childhood,  where,  in  the  dreamy  Maytime,  soft 
breezes  wafted  the  pink  petals  over  her  head;  or  later, 
when  merry  groups  of  her  play-fellows  helped  to  gather 
apples  from  the  heavy-laden  boughs.  But  now  the  sun 
set  glow  had  faded  into  dull  gray,  and  life  seemed 
equally  bereft  of  all  pleasant  things.  Try  as  she  would, 
she  could  not  repress  the  tears  that  came  in  spite  of 


8  Under  the  Magnolias. 

resolution ;  and,  seating  herself,  she  gave  way  to — always 
the  last  resort  of  woman — a  flood  of  tears. 

Did  you  never  see  how  quickly,  sometimes,  after  a 
heavy  shower,  the  clouds  float  away,  leaving  the  bright 
sunshine  to  take  their  place?  So  it  was  with  Evelyn, 
as,  with  a  much  lighter  heart,  she  dried  her  eyes,  and 
lifted  her  soul  in  fervent  prayer  to  God,  to  give  them 
strength  to  bear  this  trial,  and  wisdom  to  guide  them 
in  the  dark  future. 

She  walked  slowly  back  to  her  room;  and,  after 
bathing  her  face  and  smiling  away  the  marks  of  sor 
row  from  her  countenance,  she  joined  her  parents  in 
the'  cozy  sitting-room,  now  bright  with  a  lighted  lamp 
on  a  pretty  tea-table.  Her  father  and  mother  were  sit 
ting  in  their  usual  places,  evidently  awaiting  her. 

"I  am  sorry,  mother  dear,  if  I  have  kept  you  and 
father  waiting  for  your  tea ;  I  was  down  in  the  orchard 
and  did  not  hear  the  bell,"  she  said  brightly,  as  she 
took  her  place  at  the  table. 

"No,  dear,  you  have'  not  kept  us  waiting,"  answered 
her  mother,  gently. 

There  was  little  conversation  during  that  meal,  usual 
ly  the  most  cheerful  one  of  the  day,  for  each  was  think 
ing  too  deeply  for  words.  Neither  father  nor  mother 
knew  that  Evelyn  was  aware  of  the  change  in  their  cir 
cumstances,  and  she  felt  too  strongly  to  trust  herself 
to  speak  of  it,  even  to  them,  just  now.  "To-morrow 
will  be1  time  enough  to  begin  making  plans  for  the 
future,"  she  thought. 

After  tea  she  played  and  sang  the  songs  her  father 
and  mother  loved  to  hear.  She  then  read  the  weekly 


Financial  Ruin.  9 

newspaper  to  her  father.  It  was  quite  filled  up  with  in 
stances  of  cruel  and  unjust  treatment  of  the'  ."poor 
freedmen"  in  the  Southern  States,  particularly  in 
Louisiana,  where  the  people  had  arisen  in  their  might 
and  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  had  driven  out  the 
"justly  elected  Governor  and  Legislature,"  as  the  paper 
styled  the  notorious  Packard  Legislature  and  Governor 
Wannoth.  Mr.  Melton  was  horrified  at  the  reports 
she  read  to  him  from  the  strong  Republican  paper. 

"I  don't  see  how  a  Northern  man  can  be  willing  to 
live  among  such  people,"  he  said,  bitterly. 

"Mr.  Bliss  seems  to  stand  it  very  well.  Mrs.  Bliss 
told  me  a  few  days  ago  that  he  was  getting  on  finely, 
and  was  well  pleased  with  the  country  and  the  people," 
said  Evelyn,  quietly.  She  did  not  share  her  father's 
hatred  of  the  South.  In  her  life  at  school  she  had  met 
many  pleasant  people  from  below  "Mason  and  Dixon's 
line,"  and  cherished  no  such  ignorant  view  of  them  as 
did  many  of  the  Maine  farmers  and  their  families. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Melton  in  her  quiet  way,  "we  have 
given  them  their  freedom,  and  it  does  look  as  if  they 
ought  to  get  on  all  right  now.  They  can  work  for 
themselves  as  we  do  and  earn  a  good  living.  I  have 
never  seen  anyone  suffer  for  food  and  clothing  who  was 
willing  to  work  and  earn  them" — she  had  a  horror  of 
people  who  were  too  lazy  to  work  for  a  living, 

"You  dear,  industrious,  little  mother,"  responded 
Evelyn,  "if  all  the  world  loved  to  work  as  you  do,  there 
would  be  much  less  of  penury  and  suffering ;  but,  father, 
I  do  not  doubt  that  the  ill  treatment  of  the  freedmen 


io  Under  the  Magnolias. 

is  greatly  exaggerated;  such  things  always  are,  you 
know." 

Evelyn  now  bade  them  good-night.  Her  kisses  were 
warmer  than  usual,  and  her  arms  clasped  each  in  a 
fond  embrace  before  retiring  to  her  room.  But  she 
could  not  sleep,  for  her  mind  went  over  and  over  again 
the  items  in  her  father's  sad  story,  and  always,  with 
ceaseless  recurrence,  came  back  to  the  momentous  ques 
tion,  "What  should  they  do  ere  they  were  turned  out 
of  their  comfortable  home  ?"  At  last,  the  idea  that  was 
evolved  most  clearly  from  the  mass  of  conflicting  emo 
tions  that  filled  her  mind,  was  this ;  she  would  persuade 
her  father  to  move  away  to  some  distant  State  where 
no  one  knew  them.  This,  she  pictured  to  herself,  would 
be  much  more  endurable  than  living  near  their  old 
home  and  seeing  strangers  there.  She  could  teach 
school,  aid  her  father  in  building  up  a  new  home.  These 
cheering  thoughts  brought  peace  to  her  overcharged 
feelings,  and  soon  after  midnight  she  forgot  the  cares 
of  life  in  sweet  dreamless  slumber. 

On  the  next  morning  "ole  Mis'  Bliss,"  as  she  was 
familiarly  called  in  the  neighborhood,  came  in  to  see 
"Mis'  Melton,  jes'  fur  a  minit,"  to  say  that  she  had  got 
another  letter  from  her  "Johnnie  down  in  Louisiany." 
"He  says,  'mother,  I'm  feared  ez  you'll  hear  some  terri 
bly  scarry  news  about  us  down  here,  an'  think  ez  mebbe 
we'd  all  ben  murdered  in  our  beds,  but  we're  all  right 
an'  doin'  splendid  though  the  worms  hev'  damaged  my 
cotton  some,'  and  the  old  lady  laughed. 

"He  winds  up  his  letter  by  beggin'  me  to  cum  an'  liv' 
with  him  an'  Liza,  but  lor,  lor,  Mis'  Melton,  I'm  too 


Financial  Ruin.  n 

ole  ter  learn  new  tricks  now.  When  I  die  I  jes'  want 
my  bones  ter  res'  Alongside  er  the  ole  man  right  here 
in  Maine,  an'  ef  I  wuz  ter  get  that  fur  away,  I  know  I'd 
never  git  back  here  agin,"  added  the  old  woman. 

While  she  kept  up  an  incessant  flow  of  talk  the 
younger  women  listened,  interestedly.  To  one  of  them, 
at  least,  came  a  deep  and  exciting  interest.  A  bright 
thought  had  flashed,  like  an  electric  current,  through 
the  mind  rf  Evelyn.  She  would  write  to  John  Bliss 
and  ask  for  information  about  this  far  distant  State, 
where  land  was  so  cheap  that  it  could  be  had  almost 
for  the  asking. 

When  Mrs.  Bliss  rose  to  go,  Evelyn  followed  her  into 
the  hall,  and  taking  down  her  sunbonnet,  said: 

"Mrs.  Bliss,  I  will  walk  home  with  you.  The'  morn 
ing  is  too  beautiful  to  spend  indoors." 

"Well,  deary,  I  shull  be  glad  of  your  company,  an' 
ez  you  say,  'tis  ez  putty  a  morning  ez  one  would  care  to 
see." 

After  leaving  the  gate1  Evelyn  said,  in  a  low  tone : 

"Mrs.  Bliss,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  what  I  know 
mother  wanted  to  tell  you,  but  just  could  not.  We  will 
have  to  give  up  our  place  on  the  first  of  November  to 
the  man  to  whom  it  is  mortgaged,  and  will  have'  to 
seek  a  home  elsewhere.  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of 
the  mortgage  which  is  held  by  young  Mr.  Hemingway  ?" 

"Yes,  I  beared  'bout  the  mortgage  ez  a  gret  secret, 
but  didn't  pay  much  'tention  ter  it,  ez  folks  hears  so 
much  ez  t'ain't  true  'bout  their  neighbors  these  days. 
Anyways,  honey,  I  wouldn't  er  thought  ez  they'd  hev 
the  heart  ter  turn  you  outen  house  an'  home." 


12  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Yes,  and  the  quicker  the  better  for  us,  I  think. 
Mrs.  Bliss,  what  is  your  son's  address?  What  post- 
office  do  you  send  his  letters  to  when  you  write  to  him  ?" 
Evelyn  asked  in  explanation. 

"I  allus  directs  his  letters  to  Brierwood,  Louisiany, 
an'  he  hasn't  never  lost  one  yet,"  answered  Mrs.  Bliss, 
as  she  looked  inquiringly  at  her  young  friend. 

"I  wish  to  write  to  him  immediately,"  Evelyn  said, 
"and  ask  him  to  tell  me  all  about  the  State,  or,  rather, 
his  section  of  it,  and  what  are  the  chances  of  our  se 
curing  a  farm  there,  as  you  say  he  has  done,  almost 
for  nothing.  And  then,  too,  I  want  to  ask  him  about 
the  state  of  society  there,  as  father  is  so  prejudiced 
against  the  South  that  it  will  take  the  testimony  of  Mr. 
Bliss  added  to  all  my  powers  of  persuasion  to  convince 
him  that  his  hatred  is  unreasonable.  I  must  write  to 
him  at  once,  as  the  time  to  decide  for  the  future  is 
growing  brief.  This  is  the  twentieth  of  September, 
and  November  will  soon  be  here." 

Mrs.  Bliss  was  full  of  sympathy,  as  she  said : 

"Well,  child,  I  am  ez  sorry  for  you  ez  I  can  well  be, 
an'  fur  myself,  too,  for  I  don't  know  as  how  I'll  git 
along  without  your  father  and  mother,  ez  allus  ben 
sech  good  neighbors  ter  me.  I  know  John  will  be  that 
proud  ter  hev  you  all  fur  neighbors,  ez  he  won't  know 
what  to  do,  an'  will  sure  help  you  all  he  can.  Jes'  you 
write  to  him  right  away,  Evie.  Your  pa  knows  he  can 
trust  what  John  says  ez  good  ez  he  can  any  body's 
word." 

Here  they  reached  the  gate  to  Mrs.  Bliss'  yard,  and 
declining  the  warm  invitation  to  "come  in,  dearie," 


Financial  Ruin.  13 

Evelyn  hastily  retraced  her  steps  homeward,  and  going 
to  her  room,  wrote  the  first  business  letter  of  her  life. 
When  it  was  finished  she  changed  her  dress  and  walked 
rapidly  over  to  the  post-office  to  stamp  her  important 
letter. 

When  she  returned  home  she  went  in  search  of  her 
mother  and  found  her  on  the  back  porch  watching 
some  young  chickens  that  she  had  just  been  feeding. 
She  was  looking  sadly  about  her,  as  if  in  contemplation 
of  the  separation  from  all  the  loved  domestic  scenes 
that  seemed  dearer  to  her  than  ever.  The  placid,  gentle 
little  woman  could  not  think  of  what  the  future  held 
in  store  for  her  without  many  misgivings,  although  she 
tried  to  rest  her  faith  implicitly  on  the  promises  of  God. 
When  Evelyn  saw  her  dejected  attitude  it  smote  her 
heart  sorely,  and  going  to  her  mother,  she  threw  her 
arms  around  her,  saying,  tenderly: 

"Mother,  dearest,  don't  let  us  grieve  over  the  loss 
of  our  worldly  goods,  so  long  as  we  have  each  other 
to  live  for  and  to  love.  I  overheard  the  sad  news  father 
told  you  last  evening,  and  I  do  not  wish  you  to  be  dis 
tressed  too  much  over  it,  for  I  can  teach  school  and  help 
him  get  another  home,  which  in  time  will  be  dear  to  us. 
I  am  sure  any  home  with  you  and  father  will  be  dear 
to  me." 

Her  mother  returned  her  caresses  warmly,  as  she 
drew  her  down  to  her  lap,  and  answered  cheerily: 

"What  you  say  is  all  true,  my  dear  girlie,  and  I, 
like  you,  will  try  to  be  contented  in  our  home,  however 
simple  it  may  be.  Evelyn,  where  shall  we  go?  I  don't 


14  Under  the  Magnolias. 

feel  as  if  I  could  stop  in  this  village,  or  anywhere  near 
here." 

"Well,  mother,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  of  a  plan  that 
was  put  into  my  head  by  God  Himself,  I  think,  for 
after  asking  His  guidance  the  thought  came  to  me  un 
bidden.  While  Mrs.  Bliss  was  here  this  morning  it  just 
flashed  into  my  mind  that  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to 
write  to  Mr.  Bliss  and  ask  his  advice  on  the  subject  of 
homesteading  on  a  piece  of  land  in  Louisiana.  I  wrote 
to  him  this  morning,  asking  for  all  necessary  informa 
tion,  so  that  we  can  decide  at  once  what  would  be  the 
best  plan  to  pursue.  I  know  he  will  answer  my  letter 
as  soon  as  possible1.  That  is  what  took  me  to  the  village 
this  morning,  and,  mother,  dear,  if  Mr.  Bliss  writes 
encouragingly,  half  the  battle  will  be  won,  I  think." 

"Why,  my  dear,"  responded  Mrs.  Melton,  affection 
ately,  "you  mean  that  you  will  just  be  forming  your 
line  of  battle  to  begin  the  conflict;  but  never  fear, 
deary,  we  will  fight  bravely  and  with  God's  help  we 
will  win." 

"Here  is  father.  We  will  see  what  he  has  to  say  of 
our  plan  of  emigration,"  said  Evelyn,  as  she  ran  to 
meet  her  father  and  escort  him  to  a  chair  beside  her 
mother.  A  woman  is  always  pleasing  when  she  wishes 
to  win  a  man  over  to  her  side,  be  it  husband,  father, 
brother,  or  lover ;  so  on  this  occasion  Evelyn  was  no  ex 
ception  to  the  rule1.  As  soon  as  her  father  was  seated, 
she  took  her  station  behind  his  chair;  and  putting  her 
arms  around  his  neck  said,  coaxingly: 

"Father,  mother  and  I  have  a  plan  to  propose  for 
your  consideration,  but  we  are  not  going  to  ask  you  to 


Financial  Ruin.  15 

decide  on  it  now,  only  to  think  over  it  until  we  ask  for 
a  decision  on  the  question." 

He  did  not  make  any  remark  at  first,  but  drew  the 
brightly  flushed  face  down  to  his,  and  imprinted  a  warm 
kiss  on  the  dimpled  cheek,  then  said  playfully: 

"Well,  let's  hear  that  great  plan  you  and  mother  are 
conjuring  up  in  your  busy  brains." 

"I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  protested  Mrs.  Melton. 

"It  was  my  own  idea,  father,"  put  in  Evelyn,  "or, 
rather,  I  should  say  it  was  presented  to  my  mind  by 
Providence,  as  Mrs.  Bliss  is  so  fond  of  saying.  John 
Bliss,  you  know,  father,  has  been  in  the  State  of  Louis 
iana  ever  since  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  and  he  seems 
very  much  pleased  with  the  country;  is  doing  finely, 
his  mother  tells  us.  I  obtained  his  address  from  her 
this  morning  and  wrote  to  him  immediately,  asking  for 
information  on  the  subject  of  homestead  entry  in  that 
State."  Evelyn  paused  as  she  felt  her  father  start  at 
the  mere  suggestion  of  emigration  to  Louisiana.  But 
as  he  made  no  reply,  she  resumed  her  explanation. 

"As  I  told  you  before,  we  do  not  wish  you  to  decide 
this  question  until  we  receive  the  letter  from  Mr.  Bliss, 
which,  I  guess,  will  be  about  two  or  three  weeks." 

After  a  considerable  pause,  her  father  answered  with 
some  bitterness: 

"I  don't  know,  my  little  girl,  it  will  be  pretty  hard 
for  me  to  leave  my  home,  but  after  that  I  don't  know 
that  I  care  much  where  I  go.  I  suppose  one  place  will 
be  as  good  as  another,  outside  of  New  England."  Then, 
as  if  repenting  his  mournful  tone,  he  continued  more 
cheerfully : 


1 6  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"I  guess  I'll  be  willing  to  go  wherever  you  and  the 
little  mother  want  to  go.  As  I  have  always  tried  to 
please  you  two,  I  shall  continue  to  do  so.  But  I  am 
afraid  my  little  adviser  is  choosing  a  very  sickly  coun 
try.  I  have  always  seen  it  pictured  as  a  low,  level 
marsh,  with  alligators  sunning  themselves  on  logs  along 
the  border  of  great  lagoons." 

Here  Evelyn  interrupted  him  with  a  merry  laugh. 
Mr.  Melton  resumed  slowly : 

"It  is,  I  am  told,  as  much  as  a  man's  life  is  worth  to 
venture  among  the  people  unless  you  think  exactly  as 
they  do,  politically.  Evelyn,  there  is  one  thing  certain, 
if  ever  I  go  South,  I  will  never  give  up  my  principles 
to  please  any  set  of  people  who  think  they  are  better 
than  the  rest  of  the  world,  yet  brow-beat  and  domineer 
over  the  poor  down-trodden  freedmen,  as  they  do.  I 
will  just  die  first — I  wish  that  distinctly  understood, 
Evelyn!" 

Evelyn  had  never  seen  her  father  so  much  excited, 
nor  had  ever  heard  him  make  so  long  a  speech,  but  she 
was  more  than  satisfied,  for  she  had  carried  her  point 
beyond  her  most  sanguine  expectations,  and  everything 
would  come  right  in  the  end,  she  felt  assured. 

"I  guess  John  knows  all  about  the  State,"  suggested 
Mrs.  Melton,  "at  least  he  ought  to,  for  he  has  been  there 
long  enough  to  learn  all  there  is  to  learn  of  climate 
and  people." 

"When  did  you  write  to  John,  Evelyn,  did  you  say  ?" 

"Only  this  morning,  father.  I  did  not  know  until 
last  night  of  the  loss  of  our  home,"  she  replied. 


Financial  Ruin.  17 

A  silence  fell  over  the  group  and  nothing  more  was 
said  on  the  subject  that  day. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Evelyn  went  out  for  a  walk. 
Ere  she  had  gone  far  she  met  young  Hemingway 
sauntering  leisurely  along  in  the  direction  of  the  Mel 
ton  cottage.  She  flushed  hotly  when  she  saw  him,  and 
he,  with  masculine  vanity,  entirely  misunderstanding 
the  cause  of  her  sudden  accession  of  color,  augured  a 
favorable  omen  from  it  for  himself. 

"Good  evening,  Miss  Evelyn,"  he  said,  as  he  twirled 
his  cane  awkwardly  and  turned  to  join  her.  It  was 
quite  evident  to  Evelyn  now  that  he  had  come  out  on 
purpose  to  meet  with  her. 

Evelyn  responded  to  his  salutation  with  cold  dignity. 

"I  was  just  on  my  way  to  call  at  your  house,"  he  con 
tinued,  "and  I  am  very  much  pleased  to  meet  you  and 
share  your  walk.  Isn't  it  lovely  weather  ?  I've  been  out 
riding  over  my  farms  to-day,  and  have  enjoyed  the 
crisp,  fresh  air  so  much." 

"Are  you  sure  you  did  not  better  enjoy  the'  knowledge 
that  you  were  monarch  of  all  you  surveyed,  than  you 
did  the  fresh  air?"  asked  Evelyn,  sarcastically. 

"It  is  unkind  of  you  to  say  such  a  thing,"  he  replied, 
as  his  red  face  grew  redder  with  indignation  at  Evelyn's 
thrust,  "but  I  will  forgive  you  that  as  I  have  all  your 
other  cold  and  haughty  expressions,  if  you  will  only 
treat  me  differently  in  the  future." 

Mr.  Hemingway  and  Evelyn  Melton  had  met  often 
at  the  home  of  a  friend  who  lived  in  the  same  neigh 
borhood  where  he  resided  before  his  uncle's  death  left 
him  sole  possessor  of  the  broad  acres  about  Glenwood. 


1 8  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Though  he  seemed  to  admire  her,  she  had  never  re 
garded  him  in  the  light  of  a  suitor,  but  had  felt  an  in 
stinctive  dislike  to  him  even  before  she  had  heard  of 
the  position  which  he  occupied  toward  them.  Now,  his 
patronizing  manner  was  unbearable  to  her. 

"Miss  Evelyn,"  he  began,  after  they  had  walked 
some  distance  in  silence,  "I  started  over  to  see  you  this 
evening  to  tell  you  how  much  I  admire  you,  and  ask 
you  to  come  and  preside  over  the  beautiful  home  I  am 
preparing  for  the  woman  whom  I  think  best  fitted  to 
fill  such  a  station.  You  are  cultured  and  beautiful,  and 
should  be  placed  where  you  will  shine.  Will  you  con 
sent  to  come  and  help  me  spend  the  money  I  am  lucky 
enough  to  inherit  from  the  old  man  ?" 

Evelyn's  face  was  pale,  but  the  eyes  she1  lifted  to  his 
were  burning  with  scorn. 

"Mr.  Hemingway,  I  am  truly  sensible,  I  hope,  of  the 
honor  you  have  conferred  upon  me  in  asking  me  to  fill 
the  exalted  position  in  life  which  your  wife  will  nec 
essarily  have  to  fill,  but  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I 
do  not  feel  in  the'  least  flattered  by  your  proposal.  I 
care  nothing  for  you  and  you  will  please  not  mention 
the  subject  again  in  my  presence." 

Surprise  and  anger  filled  the  young  man's  mind,  and 
was  clearly  indicated  in  his  face  and  tone  as  he  replied, 
sneeringly : 

"Perhaps  you  are  yet  ignorant  of  the  fact,  Miss  Mel 
ton,  that  it  is  in  my  power  to  cause  your  parents  a  great 
deal  of  trouble.  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  re 
lease  the  mortgage  I  hold  over  your  home,  and  thus 
make  your  father»easy  for  life,  and  save  you  the  painful 


Financial  Ruin.  19 

necessity  of  leaving  your  old  home  to  strangers.  I  think 
when  you  know  all  the  circumstances  in  which  they 
are  placed,  and  remember  that  the  power  is  now  in  your 
hands  to  place  them  above  want  in  their  old  age,  that 
you  will  rescind  your  ^lofty  refusal  of  an  offer  that  not 
many  peniless  girls  have  an  opportunity  of  refusing." 

In  his  inordinate  conceit  he  was  wholly  unprepared 
for  the  answer  she  made  him,  and  he  quailed  when  she 
turned  on  him  with  eyes  ablaze,  and  scorn  and  contempt 
written  on  every  feature1. 

"I  am  not  on  the  market,  sir,  to  be  purchased  with  the 
gold  of  a  heartless  parvenue !  I  spurn  your  contempt 
ible  offer,  Mr.  Hemingway,"  and  choking  with  anger 
and  mortification,  she  walked  home,  leaving  him  stand 
ing  dazed  as  though  he  had  been  struck  by  lightning. 


20  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTEK  II. 

BREAKING   HOME   TIES. 

"Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity; 

Which,  like  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous, 

Wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head." — "As  You  Like  It.*' 

AFTER  two  weeks  of  anxious  expectancy,  the  letter 
from  Mr.  Bliss  came  to  Evelyn.  Her  father  had  brought 
it  in  from  the  village  just  as  they  were  about  to  seat 
themselves  at  the  table  for  supper. 

"Your  letter  bears  a  Louisiana  postmark,  so  I  suppose 
it  is  from  John  Bliss,  Evelyn.  Bead  it  aloud,  please, 
as  mother  and  I  are  anxious  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say." 
Then  turning  to  his  wife,  he  continued:  "MotheT,  let 
the  tea  wait  until  we  hear  what  John  has  to  say  aboutf 
Louisiana." 

"Yes,  mother,"  responded  Evelyn,  joyfully,  "I  could 
not  possibly  eat  anything  with  this  unopened  letter  in 
my  hands."  Her  dark  eyes  shone  with  excitement,  as, 
with  trembling  fingers,  she  tore  open  the  envelope  and 
read  aloud  the  following: 

"BRIERWOOD,  LOUISIANA. 

"Mr  DEAR  Miss  EVELYN:  I  have  just  received  your 
letter  of  inquiry  and  take  great  pleasure  in  replying 
as  best  I  can.  I  think  I  can  better  answer  all  your 


Breaking  Home  Ties.  21 

questions  by  relating  my  own  experience  as  a  homestead 
settler  in  Louisiana. 

"I  left  Maine  in  '63,  to  help  General  Grant  crush 
the,  as  I  then  called  it,  rebellion  of  the  Southern 
States.  I  do  not  call  it  so  now,  for  the  people  here  do 
not  like  that  term.  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  can  ever  repay 
their  kindness  to  me,  so  I  always  try  to  please  them  in 
every  way;  in  fact,  I  have  thrown  in  my  lot  with  the 
South  now ;  my  interests,  my  home  are  all  here.  I  have 
found  that  a  few  years'  residence  does  more  to  over 
throw  some  of  our  ideas  of  Southern  people1  and  their 
methods,  than  all  the  arguments  that  could  be  made. 

"I  am  truly  delighted  at  the  idea  of  having  your  fam 
ily  for  neighbors  at  an  early  date,  for  I  am  thoroughly 
convinced,  that  if  your  father  will  come  right  on,  he 
will  be  much  pleased  with  the  country.  But  I  told 
you  that  I  would  give  you  a  short  sketch  of  my  own 
luck  at  homesteading. 

"After  the  surrender  of  Vicksburg  my  command  was 
ordered  to  the  Red  River  country.  The  battles  in  which 
I  took  part  are  well  known  to  readers  of  history,  so  I 
will  not  mention  any  of  them  except  the  last — the  bat 
tle  of  Mansfield,  in  which  I  was  badly  wounded.  A 
planter,  who  lived  near  there,  took  me  from  the  battle 
field  and  cared  for  me  until  I  should  be  exchanged, 
but  the  war  coming  to  a  close  I  was  left  to  do  as  I 
pleased,  which  was  to  stay  with  the  kind  old  man  who 
had  been  more  than  a  friend  to  me. 

"I  do  not  know  why  he  was  so  kind  to  me,  unless  it 
was  the  sympathy  of  a  bereaved  heart,  for  he  had  lost 
hie  two  sons  in  battle.  He  had  a  rich  plantation,  well 


22  Under  the  Magnolias. 

stocked  and  with  about  a  hundred  slaves,  when  our 
army  came.  After  that  nothing  was  left  but  a  barren 
wilderness  of  unfenced  fields.  There  was  not  an  ear 
of  corn  left,  and  no  cows,  horses,  nor  even  a  rooster  to 
crow  us  up  in  the  morning. 

"Both  the  old  man's  brave  sons  lay  beneath  the  sod 
on  Virginia  battlefields;  but,  with  superhuman  effort, 
it  seems  now,  we — for  I  helped  him  all  my  strength 
would  permit — soon  had  a  little  farm  in  nice  running 
order. 

"I  stayed  with  him  until  his  death,  which  occurred 
two  years  later,  then  I  went  to  the  home  of  a  nephew 
of  his.  He  had  come  from  an  adjoining  Parish,  and 
seemed  to  take  a  fancy  to  me,  and  persuaded  me  to 
go  with  him  and  homestead  on  a  vacant  tract  of  land 
near  him.  I  had  nothing  to  hold  me  to  any  particular 
spot,  except  my  old  mother  in  Maine,  who,  as  you 
know,  is  well  provided  for,  so  I  decided  to  accept  his 
proposition.  The  next  day  after  we  reached  his  home 
we  rode  out  to  look  at  the  piece  of  land  he  had  men 
tioned  to  me.  I  was  so  much  pleased  with  the  locality 
that  I  decided  to  homestead  immediately.  Mr.  Melton 
can  guess  how  hard  I  worked,  and  soon  a  clearing  in 
the  wilderness  of  pines  rewarded  me  for  pains.  We 
could  not  depend  upon  the  negroes,  as  they  were  hard 
to  please.  If  one  did  not  do  just  exactly  to  please  them 
they  would  pull  out  to  the  county  seat  and  report  you 
to  the  Trovo/  as  they  called  the  U.  S.  Marshal.  So  I 
let  them  alone  and  did  my  own  work. 

"Mr.  Hynson  would  sometimes  bring  his  whole  force 
over  and  do  a  big  job  of  clearing  for  me.  Finally  I 


Breaking  Home  Ties.  23 

got  started  in  stock  raising,  and  there  is  no  better  sec 
tion  in  the  country  for  this  business.  The  fine,  large 
bayou  Saline,  which  runs  through  one  corner  of  my 
land,  affords  me  the  finest  range  for  hog  raising,  and 
now,  in  a  good  year,  I  sell  several  hundred  dollars' 
worth  of  meat  that  does  not  cost  me  a  cent  to  raise. 
As  for  cattle,  they  are  fit  for  beef  in  mid-winter,  even 
when  running  on  the  range. 

"Now  that  we  are  rid  of  the  'carpet-bagger'  govern 
ment,  Mr.  Melton  need  not  be  afraid  of  anything,  un 
less  it  be  overkind  treatment  of  us  Southerners.  We 
will  give  him  as  much  land  as  he  wants,  and  that  for 
a  song;  help  him  settle  on  it,  and  then  we  will  treat 
you  all  as  if  you  had  been  born  right  here  among  us. 

"I  have  been  in  the  Brierwood  country  just  seven 
years.  I  am  independent  and  have  several  families  of 
negroes  on  my  place.  I  make  them  work — they  have 
to  be  made,  for  lazy  they  are  and  lazy  they  will  remain 
till  the  crack  of  doom.  I  always  have  meat,  corn,  and 
syrup  for  sale,  and  as  the  shiftless  negroes  never  raise 
enough  of  anything  on  their  farms  to  last  them  six 
months,  there  is  always  sale  for  such  things,  generally 
to  be  paid  for  in  work,  when  crops  are  gathered  in  the 
fall. 

"I  proved  up  my  homestead  at  the  end  of  five  years, 
and  the  total  cost  did  not  exceed  twenty-five  dollars. 
This  is  a  beautiful  country,  with  bold,  clear  creeks 
rising  in  the  sand  hills  and  emptying  in  the  Eed  Eiver. 
Their  banks  are  thickly  covered  with  magnolias  and 
various  kinds  of  oaks,  while  the  hills  are  covered  with 
the  most  magnificent  growth  of  long  leaf  pine  timber 


24  Under  the  Magnolias. 

in  the  world.  The  country  is  healthy ;  in  fact,  I  would 
rather  risk  it  than  old  Maine,  even.  I  hope  Mr.  Mel 
ton  will  come  right  on,  as  I  know  of  a  good  homestead 
claim,  and  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  help  him  get  settled 
before  Christmas. 

"Last  night  I  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  Hynson  about  your 
father's  coming,  and  he  expressed  himself  as  greatly 
pleased  at  the  idea.  It  is  needless  for  me  to  tell  you  the 
pleasure  it  will  give  us  to  have  you  settle  near  us.  My 
wife,  you  know,  is  a  Maine  girl.  Your  father  and 
mother  will  remember  'Liza  Murry,  if  you  don't.  Do 
persuade  Mr.  Melton  to  come  right  on,  or  somebody  else 
may  get  ahead  of  him.  I  will  be  sure  to  meet  him  at 
our  river  station,  some  twenty  miles  from  here,  on  the 
Red  River. 

"Hoping  that  you  will  let  me  hear  from  you  at  an 
early  date,  I  remain  Yours  to  serve, 

"JOHN  BLISS." 

Evelyn  folded  the  letter  slowly,  and  then  looked 
meditatively  at  her  father  and  mother  in  turn. 

"I  had  not  thought  of  you  going  first  and  leaving 
mother  and  me,"  she  said.  "I  would  rather  that  we  all 
go  together  and  learn  the  country  afterwards,  if  you 
decide  to  go,  father.  Wouldn't  you,  mother?" 

"I  don't  know,  my  daughter,  which  will  be  best>  but 
will  leave  it  to  your  father/'  Like  the  dutiful  wife 
she  was,  she  always  deferred  to  her  husband  in  matters 
of  business,  and  that  with  perfect  faith  in  his  good 
judgment. 

Mr.   Melton  had  not  volunteered   any  remarks   as 


Breaking  Home  Ties.  25 

yet,  but  sat  apparently  absorbed  in  deep  meditation. 
After  a  while  he  roused  himself  as  if  by  an  effort,  and 
said,  slowly: 

"I  shall  talk  it  all  over  with  you  both,  and  we  will 
decide  which  will  be  the  most  sensible  plan  to  pursue. 
Just  now,  I  think  as  John  does,  that  it  will  be  the  best 
for  me  to  go  on  and  prepare  you  a  home,  then  you  can 
come  when  I  am  ready  for  you.  That  strikes  me  as 
the  most  common  sense  way  to  do." 

"But,  father,  that  will  take  some  time,"  protested 
Evelyn,  "and  in  the  meantime,  what  will  mother  and 
I  do?" 

"Why,  my  dear,  your  mother  has  been  planning  all 
summer  to  visit  your  aunt  in  Boston,  and  it  will  be  the 
most  convenient  time  she  will  ever  have  to  visit  her 
now,  I  guess.  We  can  sell  what  we1  have  a  right  to  dis 
pose  of  and  you  can  both  go  to  your  aunt's  until  I  write 
for  you  to  come  South,"  said  Mr.  Melton,  with  more 
energy  than  he  had  displayed  since  the  day  he  had  laid 
down  his  resolution  regarding  his  conduct  in  the 
South. 

Evelyn  was  delighted.  Everything  was  unfolding 
just  as  she  had  hoped.  After  the  pros  and  cons  had 
been  discussed,  all  decided  that  it  would  be  the  best 
plan  for  Mr.  Melton  to  go  first. 

It  was  not  many  days  after  they  had  thus  decided 
that  Mr.  Melton  sold  the  stock  and  other  personal  prop 
erty  that  was  not  covered  by  the  mortgage.  After  tak 
ing  an  affectionate  leave  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  and 
bidding  farewell  to  his  loved  State,  he  turned  his  face 
southward,  determined  to  put  the  past  behind  him  and 


26  Under  the  Magnolias. 

begin  life  anew,  with  the  courage  and  energy  worthy 
of  his  New  England  ancestry.  Another  week  saw  him 
an  honored  guest  in  a  Southern  homestead. 

Mr.  Melton  had  already  made  up  his  mind  that  he 
would  settle  in  Louisiana,  before  he  left  Maine,  so  the 
task  that  fell  to  Mr.  Bliss  was  not  a  hard  one — that  of 
persuading  him  to  homestead  on  the  piece  of  land  ad 
joining  his  own.  The  first  Sunday  after  his  arrival 
he  wrote  his  wife  and  daughter  that  he  had  "filed  his 
claim,  and  would  begin  immediately  to  prepare  a  home 
for  his  loved  ones/' 

"This  is  the  busy  season,"  he  wrote.  "Cotton  picking 
is  in  full  blast,  as  well  as  harvesting  peas  and  corn.  A 
little  later  comes  cane  grinding  and  potato  digging.  I 
made  my  first  acquaintance  with  cotton  as  I  came  down 
the  Mississippi,  and  along  the  latter  part  of  my  jour 
ney  I  saw  nothing  but  cotton.  Whole  fields  looked  as 
if  they  were  covered  with  snow,  the  worms  having 
eaten  off  all  the  leaves. 

"I  am  as  well  pleased  as  it  is  possible  to  be  in  a  new 
country,  and  hope  that  when  you  come  you  will  like  it 
as  well  as  I  do.  We  only  get  the  mail  once  a  week,  so 
you  see  we  are  far  from  the  busy,  rushing  world  of 
steam  and  electricity,  but  I  believe  that  is  what  you 
two  said  you  wanted." 

How  gratefully  happy  that  letter  made  Mrs.  Melton 
and  Evelyn.  It  gave  them  courage  to  go  through  the 
ordeal  of  packing  up  what  they  decided  to  take  with 
them.  Strive  as  they  would  against  the  weakness  of 
tears  and  melancholy,  at  times  they  would  break  down 
and  weep  silently  at  the  thought  of  parting  with  this 


Breaking  Home  Ties.  27 

or  that  bit  of  furniture,  which  carried  with  it  some 
fond  remembrance  of  past  joys.  At  last,  all  was  fin 
ished.  The  goods,  including  Evelyn's  piano,  were 
boxed  and  at  the  station.  Evelyn  could  not  give  up 
her  piano,  and  besides,  she  thought,  it  might  be  the 
means  of  making  money  to  help  them  along  in  the  new 
home  to  which  they  were  going. 

She  had  carefully  put  up  a  root  or  clipping  of  every 
kind  of  shrub  or  flower  that  grew  in  the  little  garden, 
to  transplant  in  their  Southern,  new-ground  garden. 
"We  will  love  these  better,  mother  dear,"  she  said,  "than 
any  others ;  will  we  not  ?" 

With  many  tears  they  bade  farewell  to  their  home; 
the  only  one  that  Evelyn  had  ever  known,  and  it  seemed 
to  them  that  they  could,  never  love  another  half  so 
well.  With  sad  hearts  they  walked  out  of  the  little 
gate,  and  after  being  seated  in  the  carriage  of  a  kind 
neighbor,  were  soon  on  their  way  to  the  station  where 
they  were  to  take  the  evening  train  for  Boston,  there 
to  visit  Mrs.  Melton's  sister. 

Here  Evelyn  felt  that  new  trials  awaited  her,  for 
the  last  two  years  of  her  school  days  had  been  passed 
in  this  city.  She  knew  she  would  meet  some  of  the 
friends  of  those  days,  who  were  very  dear  to  her,  and 
not  being  a  girl  who  would  play  a  false  part  knowingly, 
she  wondered  how  they  would  receive  her.  Her  best 
friend  and  particular  chum,  Marguerite  Willingham, 
lived  in  Boston,  and  her  parents  were  very  wealthy, 
and  moved  in  the  most  select  society.  Dearly  as 
Evelyn  loved  Marguerite,  she  shrank  from  meeting 
her  now.  She  had,  of  course,  known  always  that  she 


28  Under  the  Magnolias. 

was  not  rich  and  often  longed  for  the  wealth  possessed 
by  nearly  all  her  classmates. 

She  decided  resolutely,  that  she  would  make  no  com 
promise  with  self,  but  tell  her  friends  bravely  of  her 
father's  misfortunes  and  the  cause  of  their  removal  to 
the  South.  Would  they  treat  her  coldly — would  they 
forget  the  warm  ties  formed  in  the  days  of  the  happy 
past?  Her  soft,  brown  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  wound 
ed  pride  at  the  thought  of  Marguerite,  who  had  al 
ways  seemed  to  idolize  her,  and  whom  she  had  helped 
through  many  difficult  studies  at  school. 

She  tried  to  look  bravely  into  the  future,  but  the 
moisture  would  gather  in  drops  that  hung  pathetically 
from  the  long,  dark  eyelashes.  But  when  Marguerite 
was  informed  of  Evelyn's  arrival,  she  called  at  once  and 
carried  her  back  to  her  elegant  home. 

"This  is  such  an  unexpected  treat  to  me,  Evelyn,  my 
love,"  said  Marguerite,  as  she  looked  with  old-time 
fondness  on  her  friend,  "that  I  scarcely  know  how  to 
behave  myself  with  proper  dignity." 

"I  was  afraid  that  your  debut  into  the  fashionable 
world  had  spoiled  you  by  this  time,  and  that  you  had 
forgotten  school  friends,"  Evelyn  answered,  a  little  anx 
iously. 

"Evelyn,  you  don't  mean  that  seriously,  T  know.  As 
if  I  could  ever  forget  you,  of  all  people  in  the  world. 
I  owe  you  too  great  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  the  assist 
ance  you  gave  me  in  getting  through  college.  I  can 
never  repay  you  were  I  to  live  a  thousand  years  and 
give  you  my  handsome  brother  in  the  bargain." 


Breaking  Home  Ties.  29 

A  hot  flush  came  to  Evelyn's  rather  pale  face  as 
Marguerite  mentioned  her  brother. 

"You  haven't  forgotten  your  old  weakness,  Evelyn," 
she  rattled  on  in  her  usual  style,  "that  of  blushing  on 
all  occasions.  Arthur  tells  me  that  he  thinks  I  ought 
to  study  that  beautiful  art.  I  believe  you  have  met  him 
once,  Evelyn,  haven't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  met  him  here  one  evening  before  he  went 
abroad,"  Evelyn  answered. 

Arthur  Willingham  had  never  forgotten  the  first  im 
pression  that  Evelyn  made  on  him  the  evening  he  had 
met  her  in  his  home,  and  Marguerite  had  told  him  so 
much  of  her  goodness  and  intellect,  that  the  impres 
sion  had  been  deepened  instead  of  effaced  by  time. 

While  Marguerite  and  Evelyn  were  exchanging  con 
fidences  in  real,  school-girl  fashion,  there  was  a  rap  on 
the  door,  followed  by  Arthur,  who  came  into  the  room 
with  outstretched  hand,  a  smiling  welcome  on  his  face. 

"I'm  real  jealous  of  Marguerite,"  he  said  to  Evelyn, 
"and  protest  most  earnestly  against  her  keeping  you 
all  to  herself.  I  did  not  learn  until  a  few  moments 
ago  that  you  were  here ;  did  not  know  that  you  were  in 
the  city,  even." 

"Well,  Arthur,"  answered  Marguerite,  "you  were 
not  at  home  when  I  received  Evelyn's  note  announcing 
her  arrival  at  her  aunt's,  and  I  have  just  returned  with 
her.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  seen  you  since;  so 
withdraw  your  charge  of  selfishness,  please." 

Marguerite  was  very  fond  of  her  brother.  Evelyn 
noticed  her  look  of  pride  as  she  addressed  him,  and  it 
brought  to  her  mind  one  of  her  life-long  grudges  against 


30  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Fate — that  she  had  no  brother  or  sister  to  share  her 
joys  and  sorrows. 

"You  are  going  to  spend  the  winter  with  Marguer 
ite,  are  you  not,  Miss  Melton?"  asked  Mr.  Willingham. 

"Oh,  no,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "I  will  have  only  a 
very  short  stay  with  my  aunt,  and  shall  give  Marguer 
ite  a  fair  share  of  that  time,  if  she  wants  it,  hut  in  a 
few  weeks  mother  and  I  will  leave  for  the  South,  where 
father  is  at  present.  We  are  going  to  emigrate  to  Louis 
iana,  you  know." 

"Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Willingham,  with  great  surpriee. 
"I  would  not  be  more  astonished  if  you  had  told  me  you 
were  going  to  the  antipodes.  May  I  inquire  if  you  are 
going  as  a  missionary,  as  several  of  our  New  England 
ladies  have  done?" 

"N~o,  nothing  of  the  kind.  Just  going  like  a  dutiful 
daughter  with  my  parents,  and  expect  to  engage  in  the 
business  of  school  teaching  and  helping  father  to  make 
a  living."  Then  she  told  him  of  the  loss  of  their  home, 
how  they  had  been  led  to  select  Louisiana,  and  wound 
up  by  laughingly  inviting  him  to  call  and  see  them 
should  he  ever  go  South. 

"I  shall  certainly  avail  myself  of  your  kind  invitation, 
and  will,  with  your  permission,  sketch  the  little  school- 
marm  in  her  log  cabin.  Oh,  by  the  way,  you  have  not 
told  me  whether  you  intend  to  teach  the  'Young  idea' 
among  the  white  or  colored  race  ?" 

"I  am  going  to  do  strictly  as  Eome  does,  when  I  go 
'Down  South  in  Dixie';  that  is,  I  will  do  as  the  people 
of  the  best  class  do,"  said  Evelyn,  proudly.  "Were  you 
ever  in  the  South,  Mr.  Willingham?" 


Breaking  Home  Ties.  31 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "but  not  in  Louisiana.  I  spent 
one  winter  in  Aiken,  South  Carolina,  and  I  suppose  it 
is  very  much  like  Louisiana.  I  have'  been  planning  to 
go  to  New  Orleans  to  attend  the  Mardi  Gras  festival 
this  coming  winter,  and  perhaps  I  will  visit  you  then." 

"And  I  will  go  with  him  perhaps,  if  you  will  be  so 
kind  as  to  include  me  in  your  invitation  to  Arthur,"  put 
in  Marguerite. 

"Yes,  I  will  reserve  one  whole  invitation  for  you," 
responded  Evelyn,  warmly,  "but  I  thought  you  were 
planning  to  spend  the  whole  of  next  year  abroad,  and 
then,  of  course,  after  that  you  will  return  as  'My  Lady 
Somebody  Else,'  and  I  will  have  my  nose  put  complete 
ly  out  of  joint;"  and  Evelyn  laughed  heartily  at  the 
confusion  caused  by  her  disclosure  of  her  friend's  girl 
ish  scheme. 

Evelyn  positively  refused  to  go  into  society,  but  spent 
a  great  deal  of  her  time  at  Marguerite's  home.  To  Mr. 
Willingham  she  was  charmingly  kind  and  gracious,  and 
to  him  she  was  growing  more  interesting  than  he  cared 
to  admit,  even  to  himself.  To  Marguerite,  who  watched 
with  deep  interest  the  progress  of  the  play  between  them, 
it  was  a  source  of  great  satisfaction.  Her  brother's  dis 
position  to  "sow  his  wild  oats,"  too  recklessly,  had  been 
the  cause  of  deep  anxiety  to  his  family,  and  with 
such  a  lovely  Christian  wife  as  Evelyn  would  make  him, 
he  would  be  quite  safe,  she  felt. 

One  morning  as  Evelyn  was  speaking  of  leaving  them 
soon,  Mr.  Willingham  asked  if  he  might  not  share  the 
contents  of  her  letters  to  Marguerite. 

"Of  course,"  he  said  roguishly,  "I  shall  be  anxious 


32  Under  the  Magnolias. 

to  hear  how  you  are  pleased  with  your  new  home  and 
country,  and  something  of  the  aborigines  who  inhabit 
it.  I  shall  expect  to  hear  that  you  have  a  pet  alligator, 
a  mocking-bird  and  a  jet  black  pickaninny  among  your 
collection  of  curios." 

"Well,  as  to  the  first,"  answered  Evelyn,  with  an 
amused  smile,  "I  will  leave  that  entirely  to  Marguerite, 
as  letters  are  no  longer  mine  after  they  pass  into  her 
hands;  and  as  for  the  last  named  pet,  I  will  wait  until 
you  come  South  to  select  one  for  me,  for  I  believe  you 
take  great  pride  in  your  excellent  taste." 

"Yes,  I  think  I  have  very  good  taste,  and  some  day 
I  will  give  you  proof  of  it,"  he  answered,  looking  so 
earnestly  at  her  that  it  brought  the  blood  to  her  fair 
face. 

"Here  comes  Marguerite,"  said  Evelyn,  with  a  feel 
ing  of  relief  she  could  not  fathom  at  the  moment,  "and 
she  can  answer  the  question  of  the  joint  letters  herself." 

"Sis,"  said  Mr.  Willingham,  turning  to  Marguerite, 
"Miss  Melton  has  constituted  you  judge  of  a  question 
relating  to  certain  letters  which  you  are  to  receive  at 
a  future  date,  the  question  being,  whether  or  not  you 
will  consent  for  me  to  have  a  share  in  them?  Now, 
of  course',  you  will  make  that  arrangement?" 

"Why,  no,"  exclaimed  Marguerite,  "most  emphati 
cally  no,  no !  If  I  were  to  make  such  an  agreement  I 
would  not  receive  a  single  confidential  letter  from 
Louisiana.  They  would  be  all  p's  and  q's." 

Evelyn  was  much  amused  as  well  as  quite  relieved  at 
Marguerite's  decision. 

"I  want  Evelyn  to  know  that  no  one  but  myself  shall 


Breaking  Home  Ties.  33 

ever  read  a  line  of  the  letters  she  writes  me,  so  that  she 
will  tell  me  all  her  best  secrets,  then  I  shall  hear  if  she 
falls  in  love  with  a  charming  Creole." 

"Oh,  I  am  going  to  be  too  busy  to  think  of  love,  even 
for  a  moment,"  was  Evelyn's  prompt  rejoinder. 

"Evelyn,"  said  Marguerite,  plaintively,  "there  was 
no  use  in  the  world  for  your  getting  that  Quixotic  idea 
into  your  pretty  little  head  of  going  to  the  ragged  edge 
of  nowhere,  'to  start  life  anew/  as  you  are  so  fond  of 
saying.  It  is  simply  ridiculous  and  real  horrid  in  you. 
I  doubt  if  I  ever  see  you  again."  And  she  took  her 
seat  beside  Evelyn  and  put  an  arm  around  her,  as  she 
had  so  often  done  in  the  old  school-days. 

"I  do  not  know,  dearie,"  answered  Evelyn  soothing 
ly,  "but  you  need  not  forget  me.  I  do  not  believe  in 
that  old  stereotyped  phrase  that  is  as  old  as  it  is  untrue, 
that  'absence  conquers  love/"  and  Evelyn  fondly  re 
turned  the  pressure  of  her  friend's  hand,  while  Mr. 
Willingham  drew  a  sigh  of  intense  satisfaction. 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  express  such  sentiments, 
Miss  Melton,"  he  said,  "for  now  Marguerite  and  I  may 
still  hope  to  hold  a  place  in  your  memory,  though  sep 
arated  by  many  miles." 

A  rap  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  a  servant  entered 
with  a  note  for  Miss  Melton.  Evelyn  opened  it  and 
read  aloud  that  her  mother  was  quite  ill  with  lung  fe 
ver. 

She  turned  pale.  Her  mother  ill  and  her  father  so 
many  miles  away  from  them.  She  prepared  to  leave 
immediately,  and  in  an  hour  after  she  had  received  the 
note  she  was  hurrying  to  her  aunt's. 


34  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Her  mother  seemed  to  suffer  a  great  deal,  and,  al 
though  she  grew  no  worse,  she  did  not  improve,  and 
for  more  than  three  weeks  she  was  confined  to  her  bed. 
In  the  meantime,  a  letter  from  her  father  had  arrived, 
announcing  his  "cabin"  ready  for  occupation.  Evelyn 
had  devoted  herself  to  her  mother  with  tireless  patience. 
She  had  refused  to  see  any  but  her  most  intimate 
friends,  and  then  only  for  a  few  moments  each  day. 
She  felt  that  her  mother  needed  all  her  care  ufitil  her 
convalescence  was  fully  established.  One  day  the  doc 
tor  detained  her  a  moment  on  the  veranda,  and  speak 
ing  gravely  to  her,  said: 

"Miss  Melton,  your  aunt  informs  me  that  you  wish 
to  leave  for  the  South  as  soon  as  your  mother's  health 
will  permit.  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I 
think  it  a  fortunate  circumstance  that  you  are  going  to 
a  warmer  climate,  as  that  is  the  only  chance  of  restor 
ing  her  to  health.  HeT  lungs  are  seriously  affected, 
and  I  doubt  if  she  would  live  another  year  in  this  cli 
mate.  I  would  advise  you  to  begin  your  journey  as 
early  as  next  week,  as  I  do  not  think  she  will  improve 
here  with  the  weather  growing  colder  and  more  irritat 
ing  to  her  lungs  every  day/' 

Evelyn's  face  had  turned  so  very  pale  that  for  a  mo 
ment  he  was  sorry  that  he  had  told  her,  but  the  grate 
ful,  happy  look  that  followed  quite  relieved  him  as 
well  as  filled  him  with  surprise,  which  was  explained, 
when  in  glad  accents  she  exclaimed : 

"I  am  so  thankful  to  God  for  His  goodness  to  us  in 
ordering  our  lot  as  He  has,  for  perhaps  otherwise,  I 
might  have  to  give  up  my  precious  mother.  Do  you 


Breaking  Home  Ties.  35 

think  that  the  climate  of  Louisiana  will  entirely  restore 
her  to  health,  Dr.  Lambert  ?" 

"Yes,  I  think  the  mild  climate  of  any  of  our  Gutt 
States  will  effect  a  perfect  cure  of  her  lungs,"  he  an 
swered  positively. 

From  that  time  Evelyn  never  had  a  doubt  of  the 
goodness  of  her  Heavenly  Father  in  directing  their 
steps  to  the  South,  and  never  again  did  she  murmur 
at  leaving  friends.  It  meant  her  mother's  life',  and 
that  was  more  to  her  than  all  else  on  earth. 

The  next  day  Dr.  Lambert  said  that  they  could  safely 
leave  on  the  following  Monday.  Evelyn  had  her  hands 
and  heart  both  full  as  she  packed  their  things,  cared 
tenderly  for  her  mother's  slightest  wish,  and  bade'  fare 
well  to  her  own  and  aunt's  many  friends. 

Marguerite  and  Arthur  Willingham  were  the  last  to 
come,  and  after  the'  embraces  and  tearful  kisses  of  the 
two  girls,  the  tender  hand-clasp  of  Arthur  and  low  spo 
ken  words  of  "good-bye,  Evelyn,  until  we  meet  again/' 
which  meant  more  than  she  wished  it  to,  though  she 
pretended  not  to  see  it,  they  took  their  leave. 

"Arthur,"  said  Marguerite,  as  they  wended  their 
way  home,  "I  hope  some  day  you  will  bring  Evelyn 
back." 

"Indeed  I  will,  if  she  will  come,"  he  answered,  and 
his  face  flushed  as  his  sister  expressed  what  he  himself 
was  thinking. 

"Of  course,  she  will  come.  You  don't  suppose  that 
a  penniless  girl  with  Evelyn's  good  sense,  would  refuse 
a  fortune  and  a  handsome  fellow  like  you,  do  you  ?" 

"I  am  not  so  positive  that  good  sense  figures  much  in 


36  Under  the  Magnolias 

such  matters,"  was  the  rejoinder,  "but  it  is  rather  early 
in  the  day  to  discuss  the  chances  of  victory,  nor  have  I 
given  the  subject  as  much  thought  as  you  seem  to  think 
I  have." 

"From  that  day  the  subject  did  not  again  come  up 
for  discussion  for  many  months.  Marguerite  spent 
the  winter  and  spring  in  Europe  as  she  had  planned ; 
Arthur  a  portion  of  the  time  in  Louisiana. 


The  Farmer's  Welcome  in  Louisiana.     37 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  FARMER'S  WELCOME  IN  LOUISIANA. 

"His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements 

So  mixed  in  him  that  Nature  might  stand  up, 

And  say  to  all  the  world,  'This  was  a  man.'  " — "Julius  Caesar." 

WHILE  Evelyn  and  her  mother  were  passing  their 
time  at  the  home  of  their  relative',  Mr.  Melton  was 
actively  engaged  on  his  homestead  claim.  There  was 
an  excellent  saw-mill  near  his  place,  from  which  he  pro 
cured  the  yellow  pine  lumber  necessary  to  build  his 
"cabin,"  as  he  called  the  little  cottage  home.  He  in 
tended  to  build  only  a  small  house  now  and  would  add 
to  it  afterwards  as  he  acquired  more  means,  and  had 
more  time  to  devote  to  building. 

Mr.  Bliss  had  circulated  the  news  of  Mr.  Melton's 
loss  of  home  in  the  North  and  his  intention  to  settle 
among  them  as  a  neighbor.  There  were  not  many  of  the 
warm-hearted  farmers  in  the  settlement  who  were  not 
willing  to  lend  a  helping  hand  and  extend  a  warm  wel 
come  to  their  Northern  neighbor,  for  they  could  sym 
pathize  with  poverty.  Had  they  not  lost  their  all  in 
the  great  civil  strife  through  they  had  so  recently 


38  Under  the  Magnolias. 

passed?  Did  not  they,  too,  have  to  begin  anew  m 
life,  and  under  such  changed  circumstances,  with  only 
their  land  left  to  them? 

When  the  lumber  for  Mr.  Melton's  house  was  hauled, 
there  was  no  lack  of  willing  hands  to  assist  in  the  build 
ing.  Indeed,  there  were  so  many  workmen  on  the 
ground,  that  the  space  required  for  yards  and  garden 
was  cleared  off  before  sundown. 

Mrs.  Bliss  had  provided  a  bountiful  dinner  for  the; 
men,  which  was  a  great  attraction  to  the  colored  por 
tion  of  the  workmen,  for  they  liked  nothing  so  well  as 
a  good  dinner,  washed  down  with  a  drink  of  whiskey. 
They  are  childishly  fond  of  gatherings  of  all  kinds, 
even  funerals.  They  attend  log-rollings  and  neigh 
borhood  reunions  of  every  kind  to  the  entire  neglect 
of  their  own  crops,  seldom  giving  a  thought  to  the 
future. 

Mr.  Bliss  spent  all  the  time  he  could  spare  from  his 
own  farm  in  assisting  his  old  friend  and  neighbor,  for 
he  felt  that  he  could  not  do  enough  to  show  how  pleased 
he  was  to  have  him  among  them.  Mr.  Melton  worked 
diligently.  He  often  pictured  to  himself  the  happi 
ness  of  the  reuniting  of  his  family  in  a  new  home  of 
their  own,  even  though  it  was  an  humble  one.  If  only 
his  wife  and  Evelyn  were  contented,  he  felt  sure  they 
would  all  be  quite  happy  once  more.  He  did  not  mind 
the  work,  for  he  had  been  accustomed  to  it  all  his  life. 
He  did  not  yet  know  of  the  Providential  means  that 
had  been  used  to  more  thoroughly  content  one,  at  least, 
of  the  home-coming  party  to  the  change  in  their  cir 
cumstances;  for  Evelyn,  having  never  felt  very  much 


The  Farmer's  Welcome  in  Louisiana.     39 

alarmed  on  her  mother's  account  and  apprehending  no 
immediate  danger,  had  not  informed  her  father  of  her 
illness. 

Often  in  the  evenings,  as  Mr.  Bliss  and  Mr.  Melton 
sat  and  talked  over  old  times,  they  discussed  the 
strange  vicissitudes  of  fortune  that  had  thus  again  made 
them  neighbors.  The  second  Sunday  after  Mr.  Mel 
ton's  arrival,  as  he  was  resting  at  the  close  of  a  hard 
week's  work,  Mrs.  Bliss  joined  him  and  began  telling 
of  their  church  work,  remarking : 

"I  wish  you  would  go  to  church  with  us  to-morrow 
and  get  acquainted  with  all  the  neighbors ;  you  have  met 
a  good  many  of  the  men,  but  none  of  our  nice  ladies." 

"I  don't  remember  meeting  any  of  them  except  Miss 
Montgomery,"  he  answered. 

"You  will  be  sure  to  receive  an  invitation  to  dine 
with  them  on  Sunday,  and  if  I  were  you  I  would  go  and 
get  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Montgomery  and  the  girls  be 
fore  Mrs.  Melton  and  Evelyn  come,"  Mrs.  Bliss  replied. 

Mr.  Melton  thought  a  moment,  then  answered, 
"Thank  you,  'Liza ;  I'll  go  with  you  and  John  if  it  will 
not  put  you  to  any  inconvenience." 

"It  won't  be  a  bit  of  trouble,"  protested  Mrs.  Bliss; 
"we  can  go  in  the  wagon  instead  of  the  buggy;  or  you 
can  ride  horseback.  I  guess  that  would  be  the  best 
plan,  for  then  you  can  be  free  to  go  out  to  dinner,  if 
you  wish  to.  I  am  so  glad  you  are  all  Baptists,  as  that 
is  the  only  denomination  in  this  settlement." 

<fYes,  we  are  all  members  of  that  church.  My  wife's 
people  were  Presbyterians  to  start  with,  but  she  joined 
my  church  after  we  were  married,  and  I  was  glad  of  it, 


4O  Under  the  Magnolias. 

as  I  am  a  little  set  in  my  opinions  and  would  hate  to  be 
long  to  one  church  and  my  wife  to  another." 

"It  seems  right  strange  to  think  of  Evelyn's  being  a 
woman,  now.  She  was  such  a  little  girl  when  I  saw  her 
last,  though  I  expect  she  was  older  then  than  I  thought 
she  was.  She  was  such  a  pretty  child,  with  soft  brown 
eyes  and  yellow  curls,"  mused  Mrs.  Bliss  reminiscently. 

"That's  so,"  remarked  the  fond  father,  "Evelyn  is  a 
beautiful  girl;  though  I  say  it,  who  shouldn't.  She  is 
well  educated,  too,  'Liza.  I  spent  almost  all  I  owned  on 
her.  She  is  planning  for  John  to  try  to  get  her  a  school 
in  this  neighborhood,  if  he  can.  She  is  so  anxious  to 
help  me,  poor  child,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  can't  let  her  go 
away  from  me  again,  it  would  leave  me  and  Mary  so 
lonely." 

"I  don't  doubt  he  can  get  her  a  good  school  next  Sum 
mer  if  not  before  then,"  replied  Mrs.  Bliss,  "and  I  shall 
do  all  in  my  power  for  her." 

Mrs.  Bliss  was  an  energetic  woman,  and  a  great  be 
liever  in  one's  being  "up  and  doing,  still  achieving,  still 
pursuing,"  even  in  this  obscure  corner  of  the  world. 

That  night  as  they  were  sitting  on  the  gallery,  con 
versing  on  things  in  general,  as  was  their  custom,  there 
was  a  click  of  the  gate  latch  and  the  genial  voice  of 
young  Doctor  Montgomery  announced  himself  as  with  a 
pleasant  "Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  he  took  the  chair 
offered  him  by  his  host. 

"I  have  just  been  down  to  Nux's  to  prescribe  for  one 
of  his  pickaninnies,"  he  said,  "and  stopped  just  a  mo 
ment  to  deliver  an  invitation  from  father  and  mother 
to  Mr.  Melton,  to  come  and  dine  wth  us  to-morrow; 


The  Farmer's  Welcome  in  Louisiana.     41 

and  I  also  want  to  see  how  my  little  namesake  is  pro 
gressing.  I  may  come  in  to  see  him,  may  I  not,  Mrs. 
Bliss?" 

Mrs.  Bliss  was  sitting  by  the  baby's  cradle  trying  in 
vain  to  get  him  off  to  sleep.  "Certainly,"  said  the  proud 
mother,  as  she  lifted  the  fat  baby  from  the  cradle.  The 
little  one  reached  out  its  chubby  arms  toward  the  young 
doctor  as  if  quite  accustomed  to  his  company.  As  soon 
as  he  was  near  enough  he  commenced  crowing  and  pull 
ing  that  individual's  mustache  vigorously. 

"Oh,  you  young  scamp !"  exclaimed  the  doctor.  .  "You 
know  how  to  hurt  a  fellow,  don't  you?"  And  disen 
gaging  the  chubby  fingers  handed  him  back  to  his 
mother.  "Has  he  cut  any  teeth  yet  ?" 

"No;  but  I  think  he  will  pretty  soon,"  was  the 
answer. 

"The  little  girls  are  asleep,  I  see,"  said  Doctor  Mont 
gomery,  looking  toward  where  the  trundle-bed  stood 
with  its  rosy  cheeked  occupants  in  full  view  from  the 
bright  pine-knot  blaze.  Doctor  Montgomery,  or  Doctor 
Laurie,  as  he  was  generally  designated,  to  distinguish 
him  from  the  old  doctor,  his  father,  was  quite  a  favor 
ite  in  the  parish.  He  was  very  unlike  his  father  in  some 
respects  and  yet  like  him  in  others.  He  could  not  have 
lived  all  his  life  with  his  polished,  gentlemanly  father 
without  being  like  him  in  manners,  at  least.  They  had 
a  large  and  extended  practice,  ranging  from  ten  to  fif 
teen  miles  in  extent;  sometimes  over  bayous  swollen  by 
the  spring  freshets,  or  through  seemingly  interminable 
pine  forests,  answering  every  call  whether  from  rich  or 
poor,  white  or  black. 


42  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Mr.  Melton,  when  do  you  expect  your  family  from 
the  North  ?"  inquired  the  doctor. 

"I  am  in  hopes  of  heing  able  to  send  for  them  in  two 
or  three  weeks/'  was  the  reply.  "John  thinks  that  my 
nest  will  he  ready  hy  that  time,  and  you  may  imagine 
that  I  am  very  anxious  for  them  to  come." 

"We  shall  all  be  pleased  to  welcome  them  to  our  neigh 
borhood,  for  we  are  in  need  of  a  great  many  more  such 
settlers  among  us  as  Mr.  Bliss  and  yourself,  and  it 
seems  that  it  might  be  possible  for  you  to  persuade  oth 
ers  to  follow,"  remarked  the  doctor. 

"I  don't  know.  The  Northern  people  have  a  mis 
taken  idea  of  the  South,  and  unless  we  can  show  them 
this  mistake,  as  I  have  been  taught  to  see  it,  it  will  not 
be  possible  to  turn  the  tide  of  immigration  toward  the 
South  instead  of  the  West,"  Mr.  Melton  replied. 

"They  would  surely  take  the  testimony  of  two  such 
men  as  you  and  Mr.  Bliss,"  protested  the  doctor,  warmly ; 
then  added,  abruptly :  "Your  family  will  arrive  in  good 
time  for  the  cane  grinding  season,  which  I  suppose  will 
be  a  new  experience  to  them,  will  it  not  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Melton,  interestedly,  "it  certainly 
will  be  a  new  experience  to  all  of  us,  and  a  very  inter 
esting  one,  especially  to  me,  as  I  wish  to  learn  the  proc 
ess  thoroughly,  for  I  will,  of  course,  raise  cane  for  my 
own  use  hereafter." 

"I  guess  you  will  prefer  maple  to  cane  syrup,  for  a 
while  at  least,  until  you  become  accustomed  to  it,"  Mr. 
Bliss  remarked. 

After  chatting  a  while  longer,  the  doctor  rose  to  take 
his  leave.  As  he  was  bidding  them  good-bye,  Mrs.  Bliss 


The  Farmer's  Welcome  in  Louisiana.     43 

came  out  and  told  him  that  her  persimmon  beer  would 
be  in  readiness  by  the  following  week,  and  not  to  for 
get  to  stop  and  test  it  when  he  was  riding  by  thirsty 
and  tired. 

Promising  that  he  would  not  forget  such  an  import 
ant  matter,  he  left  them,  but  not  without  assurance  from 
Mr.  Melton  that  he  would  accept  the  invitation  to  spend 
the  following  day  with  the  doctor's  parents. 

As  he  galloped  down  the  road  Mr.  Melton  turned  to 
Mr.  Bliss  and  remarked : 

"John,  that  seems  like  a  fine  young  man,  and  his 
father,  too,  is  so  pleasant  in  his  manners;  always  has 
something  nice  to  say  whenever  one  meets  him." 

"Yes,"  assented  John,  warmly;  "they  are  the  very 
best  people  around  here.  They  used  to  be  rich  for  this 
country,  owning  about  one  hundred  slaves." 

"As  for  Doctor  Laurie,"  put  in  Mrs.  Bliss,  "he's  just 
the  best  and  most  pleasant  fellow  in  the  world.  I  know 
him  well,  for  he  always  likes  to  stop  with  us ;  says  that 
my  persimmon  beer,  gingerbread  and  doughnuts  are 
the  nicest  in  the  parish." 

"Oh,  well,  'Liza,  Laurie  has  learned  that  the  way  to 
win  over  a  woman's  good  will  is  to  brag  of  her  a  lit 
tle,"  said  her  husband  teasingly. 

"I  know  that  Evelyn  and  Mts.  Melton  will  like  him 
just  as  well  as  I  do,"  she  answered  confidently. 

The  next  Sunday  morning  dawned  beautifully  cloud 
less,  with  the  brightness  of  the  sunshine  slightly  veiled 
by  the  soft  October  haze ;  but  as  the  sun  rose  higher  and 
the  soft,  billowy  clouds  floated  up  from  the  Gulf,  the 
blue  became  so  deeply,  so  purely  blue,  as  is  seen  no- 


44  Under  the  Magnolias. 

where  else  in  the  world  unless  it  be  in  Italy's  bright 
skies. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  they  started  for  church.  The 
long  journey  of  four  miles  to  the  Brierwood  church  was 
always  an  event  in  the  quiet  life  of  the  farmers  of  that 
section.  As  they  never  reached  home  earlier  than  three 
in  the  afternoon,  it  was  necessary  to  take  some  luncheon 
for  the  children,  and,  indeed,  the  elders  often  joined  the 
disposal  of  the  cold  chicken  and  biscuits. 

The  congregation  was  rapidly  assembling  when  they 
reached  the  church — a  large,  substantial  wooden  build 
ing  situated  in  a  beautiful  oak  grove.  The  cemetery, 
with  its  gleaming  white  stones,  stood  on  a  gentle  emi 
nence  near  by,  where  many  a  brave  forefather  of  the 
hamlet  slept,  all  unmindful  of  the  storms  of  war,  or  the 
gentle  reign  of  peace. 

The  regular  hour  of  service  was  eleven  o'clock,  but 
it  often  happened  that  many  of  the  congregation  arrived 
before  that  time;  and,  as  was  their  custom,  they  had 
taken  out  their  hymn  books  and  were  passing  their  time 
profitably  and  pleasantly,  singing  the  songs  of  Zion,  in 
which  one  and  another,  as  they  arrived,  joined,  so  that 
by  the  time  set  for  service  there  was  a  loud,  swelling 
volume  of  song  going  up  from  many  hearts  and  voices. 
The  whole  congregation  joined  heartily  in  the  singing, 
which  rendered  it  very  impressive.  The  white-haired 
minister  discoursed  to  them  in  a  quaint,  old-fashioned 
way,  dwelling  chiefly  on  the  theme  of  Jesus's  love  for 
sinful  man. 

After  the  services  were  over,  Doctor  Montgomery 
took  Mr.  Melton  in  charge,  introducing  him  to  all  the 


The  Farmer's  Welcome  in  Louisiana.     45 

neighbors  whom  he  had  not  formerly  met,  then  invited 
him  to  join  him  and  his  family  and  return  for  dinner, 
which  Mr.  Melton  very  readily  consented  to  do. 

The  usual  time  was  spent  in  general  conversation,  in 
quiring  after  the  sick  of  the  neighborhood  and  others, 
who  were  of  necessity  detained  at  home. 

Nearly  every  family  for  miles  around  who  attended 
church  at  Brierwood,  either  dined  out  or  took  company 
home  with  them,  and  a  few,  who  lived  in  close  prox 
imity,  kept  open  house  on  Sundays.  It  was  after  three 
in  the  afternoon  when  the  Montgomerys,  accompanied 
by  Mr.  Melton  and  Mr.  Hynson,  who  had  also  been 
invited,  reached  the  "Magnolias,"  as  the  Montgomery 
plantation  was  called. 

The  Sunday  dinners  were  generally  partly  prepared 
on  the  previous  Saturday  so  that  there  was  very  little 
left  for  "Mauma"  Silvy  to  do  on  the  Sabbath.  As 
there  were  services  at  Brierwood  only  once  a  month,  the 
remaining  Sabbaths  were  allowed  to  Mauma,  the  faith 
ful  colored  retainer,  to  spend  at  Greengrove,  and  there, 
Sunday  after  Sunday,  as  regularly  as  the  preaching 
days  came  around,  she  shouted  to  her  heart's  content 
as  the  "Sperrit  'tuk'  possession  of  her,"  she  explained 
to  her  home  folk. 

Old  Mauma  Silvy  was  one  of  those  privileged  char 
acters  so  common  on  all  Southern  plantations  before 
the  war.  She  had  acted  chiefly  as  nurse  in  the  old  days 
of  plenty  and  luxurious  abundance ;  had  grown  up  with 
the  mistress  with  whom  she  came  to  Brierwood  as  part 
of  the  latter's  marriage  portion,  and  as  children  were 
born  into  the  family  she  took  them  in  charge  and 


46  Under  the  Magnolias. 

nursed  them  until  they  got  beyond  her  leading  strings. 
James,  Laurie,  Marion  and  the  "baby,"  as  Fannie  was 
called,  all  passed  through  her  hands.  Next  to  their 
parents,  they  loved  this  old  negro  woman,  and  to  her, 
when  mother  was  not  near,  they  carried  all  their  joys 
and  sorrows,  sure  of  a  sympathetic  response.  As  the 
boys  grew  older  they  teased  and  played  many  jokes  on 
her,  but  she  was  always  patient  and  forgiving,  know 
ing  that  they  loved  and  respected  her. 

When  the  "annual  giving"  came  with  the  Christmas 
time,  Mauma  was  laden  with  gay  bandanas,  clay  pipes, 
tobacco  and  gifts  of  similar  value.  When  she  was 
set  free  she  had  to  enter  a  life  of  more  labor  than  she 
had  ever  known  before,  for  as  a  free  woman  she  was  ex 
pected  to  earn  a  living  for  herself.  The  girls,  more  par 
ticularly  Mamie,  helped  her  with  the  pastry  making, 
but  when  baby  Fannie  came  in  the  kitchen  to  assist  her, 
she  was  always  "on  pins,"  as  she  expressed  it,  for  fear 
"sumpthin'  outlandish"  would  happen  before  she  left  the 
kitchen. 

"De  baby  sech  a  splasher  Fse  allus  'feared  she'll  broke 
sumpthin',  an*  crock'ry  ain't  cheep  dese  days,  like  it 
wuz  befo'  de  wah,  an'  dere  ain't  no  bags  er  goP  settin' 
roun'  like  dere  wuz  in  dem  good  ole  times,"  she  would 
say,  shaking  her  head  until  the  feather  scratchers  that 
she  always  carried  in  her  ears,  would  fall  out,  making 
Fannie  laugh  heartily  as  she  would  leave  the  old  woman 
alone  in  her  glory. 

When  Mr.  Melton  returned  home  that  evening,  he 
found  Mrs.  Bliss  full  of  curiosity  as  to  what  he  thought 
of  the  Montgomery  family,  "Mr.  Melton,  which  of  the 


The  Farmer's  Welcome  in  Louisiana.     47 

two  girls  is  the  best  looking  ?"  she  asked,  with  much  in 
terest.  "John  thinks  Fannie  is  the  'cutest'  little  girl 
in  the  world,  while  I  think  Mlarion  is  much  the  nicest 
looking  of  the  two." 

"Well,  'Liza,"  replied  Mr.  Melton,  thoughtfully,  "I 
can't  really  say;  they  are  both  so  nice  and  pretty,  that 
I  don't  know  which  to  admire  most,  but  I  think  their 
mother  is  the  most  beautiful  old  lady  I  have  ever 
met;  such  lovely  manners  and  gentle  ways  as  she  has, 
I  never  saw  in  anyone." 

Mr.  Melton  recounted  the  events  of  the  day,  praising 
the  Montgomerys  enough  even  to  please  Mrs.  Bliss's  ex 
acting  nature.  "The  doctor  told  me  that  if  I'd  let  him 
know  what  time  my  folks  would  come,  he  would  send 
two  wagons  down  with  cotton,  and,  as  they  would  re 
turn  empty,  I  might  have  the  use  of  them  to  haul  my 
freight  home.  I  think  it  was  kind  and  thoughtful  of 
him,"  said  Mr.  Melton. 

"Well,  you'll  find  that  he  will  be  continually  doing 
such  things,"  Mrs.  Bliss  returned.  "He  is  not  a  man 
who  does  things  by  halves  as  so  many  people  do,  and 
his  wife  is  just  as  good  as  he  is." 

That  night  as  Mr.  Melton  sought  his  pillow,  it  was 
with  a  deep  feeling  of  gratitude  that  the  lines  he 
thought  so  hard  at  first,  now  seemed  to  be  falling  in 
pleasanter  places. 


48  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

SOUTHWARD  BOUND. 

"Now  go  we  in  content, 
To  liberty,  and  not  to  banishment."— "As  You  Like  It." 

EVELYN  was  delighted  with  the  great  improvement 
in  her  mother's  health  during  their  journey  South.  So 
rapidly  was  her  strength  increased  by  the  time  they 
reached  Campte  landing  on  the  Eed  Eiver,  she  seemed 
almost  well  again. 

It  was  just  dark  when  they  landed  at  the  small  town 
with  its  dozen  or  so  houses  built  along  the  river  front. 
The  "hotel,"  as  the  little  boarding  house  was  called, 
was  kept  by  Mrs.  Michael,  a  Jewess,  whose  husband 
acted  as  collector  and  purveyor  for  the  house  of  his 
wife,  by  whose  name  it  was  principally  called. 

The  small,  low  frame  building  was  protected  from  the 
sun  by  a  huge  pecan  tree,  whose  branches  swept  the  roof. 
Often  through  the  night  were  the  strangers  awakened 
by  the  crash  of  the  falling  nuts  on  the  shingle  roof,  cut 
loose  from  the  boughs  by  those  rapacious  rodents,  the 
flying  squirrels,  or  thrashed  off  by  the  strong  wind  that 
ever  blows  along  the  river. 

It  was  late  ere  Evelyn  and  her  mother  could  compose 


Southward  Bound.  49 

their  minds  sufficiently  to  sleep  well,  and  before  it  was 
yet  light  they  were  awakened  by  a  loud  "hello"  at  the 
front  door  of  the  hall  on  which  their  room  opened.  The 
call  was  answered  by  their  host,  who  demanded  in  a 
rather  angry  voice:  "Vat's  you  vants  mit  me  so  soon 
dish  mornin'?"  to  which  the  voice  replied  good  hu- 
moredly : 

"I  wants  ter  know  ef  dem  Yankee  ladies  cum  up  on 
de  'Belle'  las'  night  ?  I  was  tole  by  de  ole  boss  ter  ax 
fur  dem  at  de  hotel,  suh." 

"Yas,  two  vimmins  come  in  here  las'  nicht  fum  de 
boat,  but  I  dun  no  vedders  dey  ees  Yankees  or  no. 
Vere's  ees  you  fum  anyvays,  neeger ;  an'  vats  your  pees- 
ness  mit  dese  vimmins  vat  cum  here  off  de  'Belle'?" 
interrogated  Mr.  Michael. 

"Now,  Mr.  Michael,  I  know  you  'cognizes  me,  wat 
you's  seed  heah  so  many  times  wid  Doctor  Montgomery's 
wagins.  Mr.  Melton  tole  me,  and  my  ole  boss  tole  me, 
too,  ter  'quire  ef  de  ladies  wuz  heah,  an'  I  wants  ter  ax 
'em  ef  deyed  lak'  ter  go  wid  me  in  de  mule  wagin  up 
de  country ;  an'  I  wants  ter  git  er  order  fur  dey  freight 
ter  sen'  by  Aleck  in  de  ox  wagin.  Mr.  Michael,  please 
go  and  fin'  out  all  'bout  it,  an'  let  me  know  right  away, 
please,  sir,"  said  the  negro  driver,  coaxingly.  Evelyn, 
who  had  heard  every  word  distinctly,  had  arisen  and 
dressed  herself  hurriedly,  and  now  came  into  the  hall. 
She  had  insisted  on  her  mother's  remaining  in  bed  until 
the  usual  hour. 

"Mr.  Michael,  I  guess  that  my  mother  and  I  are  the 
ladies  to  whom  the  driver  refers,  so  I  will  speak  with  him 
myself  about  the  journey  up  the  country,"  she  explained 


5o  Under  the  Magnolias. 

to  the  host  as  she  turned  to  meet  the  negro,  who  came 
to  the  door  of  the  hall  on  hearing  her  speak.  He  bared 
his  head,  from  which  the  obnoxious  wool  had  been 
closely  clipped,  and  made  a  most  profound  bow. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  .  Ah!  what  did  you  say 

was  your  name  ?"  Evelyn  stopped  short,  as  she  suddenly 
remembered  that  she  had  not  heard  his  name  called  dur 
ing  the  colloquy  that  she  had  just  overheard. 

"My  name  is  jest  plain  Jeems  Munroe,  ma'am,  an* 
folks  ginerly  calls  me  Jim  fur  short.  Nobody  eber 
cognizates  me  by  de  name  ob  Mr.,  but  a  few  fashionable 
niggers,  an'  we  hain't  got  none  ob  dat  sort  in  our  parish, 
I'm  glad  to  say,"  and  Jeems  Munroe  bowed  again,  as  he 
added :  "Mr.  Melton  tole  me  ter  ax  heah  fur  his  ladies, 
an'  I  presumes  you  is  de  ones,  ma'am,  ez  I'm  a-huntin'. 
I  wuz  tole  ter  ax  ef  you'd  lak'  ter  go  up  de  country  wid 
me  home,  ma'am,  an'  Aleck  he  druv'  de  ox  team,  an'  I 
says  ter  'im  las'  night,  I  did,  'I  bets  dem  ladies  cum  up 
on  dat  boat  wat's  w'istlin'  now,'  an'  I'm  sho'  glad  ov  it, 
ma'am,  as  you  has  come,  an'  you'll  jes'  make  up  yo  min's, 
ma'am,  wedder  you'll  go  or  not.  Now,  wat  I  wants 
is  de  order  fur  yer  freight  so's  I  kin  load  up  de  ox  team 
and  let  Aleck  git  off  immegitly.  I  doan  s'pose  you 
knows,  ma'am,  but  a  ox  team  trables  mighty  slow,  an' 
ef  hit  doan  git  off  yerly  dey'll  not  mek  it  home  by  sun 
down." 

"Well,  just  wait  a  few  moments,  James,  until  I  see  my 
mother,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  we  shall  do ;  meantime 
I  will  write  the  order  for  our  freight  so  that  you  may 
get  off  early  with  it."  As  she  turned  to  leave  the  hall 
she  stopped  to  ask  Mr.  Michael  if  there  was  any  chance 


Southward  Bound.  51 

to  procure  a  more  luxurious  vehicle  than  a  wagon  for 
her  mother  to  take  the  journey  home.  He  said  it  was 
not  at  all  likely  that  she  could  do  so.  She  then 
hurried  to  her  room  to  tell  her  mother  of  all  that  had 
passed,  and  to  write  the  coveted  order  for  Jeems  Mun- 
roe.  She  found  her  mother  not  only  willing,  but 
anxious,  to  set  out  immediately. 

"Has  not  that  negro  driver  a  pleasant,  cheery  voice, 
mother,  or  did  you  notice  it  ?"  asked  Evelyn. 

"Yes,  I  could  not  but  notice  the  difference  between 
its  cheerful  ring  and  Mr.  Michael's  irritable  tones,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Melton,  laughing. 

"I  will  take  this  order  for  the  freight  to  our  polite 
driver,  as  he  seems  to  be  in  a  particular  hurry  to  get  his 
ox  team  off." 

She  returned  to  the  hall  to  find  the  tall,  dusky 
figure  still  standing  in  the  doorway,  patiently  waiting, 
while  the  dimly  burning  lantern,  and  the  faint  light  of 
dawn  struggled  for  ascendancy. 

"Well,  Jim,  we  have  decided  to  take  your  kind  offer 
of  a  seat  in  your  wagon,  and  will  be  ready  whenever 
you  call  for  us.  Here  is  the  order  for  our  freight. 
What  hour  do  you  wish  to  leave  Campte  ?"  asked  Evelyn, 
cheerfully. 

"Well,  jes'  so's  we  git  off  de  ox  team  yerly.  I  doan 
cares  'bout  our  leavin'  afore  nine  o'clock,"  Jim  answered, 
deferentially. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  carry  our  freight  in  your 
wagons  at  one  time?  You  know  what  you  cannot  put 
into  the  ox  wagon  you  may  carry  in  the  one  in  which  we 
will  ride.  I  would  like  very  much  to  take  everything  at 


52  Under  the  Magnolias. 

once  if  it  will  not  overload  your  teams  ?"  Evelyn  asked. 

"Yassem,  we  kin  cah'y  evyting  at  one  trip  in  bof  ov 
de  wagins,  lessen  you's  got  er  heap  er  freight.  My 
teams  is  sho'  good  uns.  They  kin  pull  'bout  er  matter 
er  three  thousan'  pound's  ev'y  trip,  ma'am,  an'  dey 
allus  does  do  it,  too,"  said  Jim,  full  of  confidence  in 
his  teams. 

Promptly  at  nine  o'clock  Jim  was  at  the  door  with 
his  wagon. 

"They's  clean,  ma'am,"  he  said,  as  Evelyn  seemed 
to  hesitate  a  moment  before  accepting  his  kind  offer  of 
the  quilts,  to  cushion  the  hard  seat  for  her  mother. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  did  not  doubt  that;  they  look  very  nice 
and  clean,  I  am  sure,"  she  said  quickly.  She  would 
not  have  wounded  his  feelings  about  his  quilts  for  any 
thing. 

"How  long,  Jim,  has  it  been  since  the  ox  wagon  left 
Campte?"  asked  Evelyn. 

"'Bout  two  hours  an'  a  half,  ma'am,"  and  he  clucked 
to  his  mules,  and  they  were  off  for  the  hills. 

Jim  seemed  quite  talkative,  and  appeared  to  think  it 
his  especial  duty  to  entertain  his  charges,  so  he  fell  to 
discoursing  to  them  of  their  new  neighbors,  and  boast 
ing  of  the  "quality"  of  his  white  folks  was  his  chief  topic. 

"To  whom  did  you  say  you  used  to  belong?"  asked 
Evelyn,  a  little  timidly,  fearing  that  she  was  introduc 
ing  an  unpleasant  memory  to  the  consideration  of  the 
ex-slave;  but  she  was  surprised  at  the  burst  of  en 
thusiasm  which  the  inquiry  brought  forth. 

"Me,  ma'am,  did  you  say  ?"  he  asked,  as  if  rather  dis 
gusted  that  everyone  did  not  know  that  he  had  always 


Southward  Bound,  53 

belonged  to  the  Montgomerys  and  his  father  and  mother 
before  him. 

"Yassem,  I  b'longed  to  de  Montgomery  s,  an  FS  all  us 
lived  on  de  Montgomery  plantation.  I  went  off  wen  I 
wuz  fust  freed,  an'  I  had  er  gran'  time  long  ez  de  mon'y 
hilt  out,  wat  de  ole  boss  paid  me  wen  I  lef  home,  but 
den  I  tuk  de  typhoid,  an'  me  wat  allus  bufo'  had  de 
bes'  ob  'tention  wen  I  wuz  sick  at  home,  an'  de  bes'  doc 
tor  in  de  country  ter  'ten'  me,  fo'  de  Lawd,  I  lak  ter 
perish  fur  er  drink  er  cool  water.  I  reck'n,  ma'am,  ef 
it  hadn't  er  been  fur  Marse  Laurie's  cummin'  down  ter 
Campte  'bout  dat  time  wid  Aleck,  in  de  wagin,  an'  hear- 
in'  'bout  me  bein'  so  sick,  I'd  er  died  right  dere.  Sho', 
ma'am,  I  would  er  done  it;  but  he  jes'  put  me  in  de 
wagin  an'  cah'ed  me  home  ter  my  mammy,  an'  den 
he  an'  de  ole  boss  nussed  me  tell  I  wuz  well  an'  soun'. 
Marse  Laurie  is  er  good  boy,  sho'  he  is,  ma'am.  Well, 
I'se  been  dere  eber  sence,  an'  I  'lows  ter  stay  dere  ez 
long  ez  me  an'  dey  gits  erlong  ez  well  ez  we  duz  now. 
Dat  wuz  my  fust  and  las'  tas'  er  freedom,"  said  Jeems 
Munroe,  clucking  to  his  mules. 

"Well,  aren't  you  as  free  on  the  plantation  of  Doctor 
Montgomery  as  you  were  on  the  river?"  asked  Evelyn. 
"Oh,  yassem,  I  does  jes'  ez  I  pleases,  ef  it  pleases 
Marse  Laurie  en'  de  boss,"  he  answered,  pleasantly. 
Evelyn  was  much  amused  and  remarked: 
"You  use  mules  a  great  deal  down  here,  don't  you?" 
"Yassem,  dere's  nuthin'  suits  a  nigger  ez  well's  a  mule, 
an'  yit  dey's  easy  to  spile,  too.     Dere's  nuthin'  is  ez  easy 
ter  spile  as  a  mule,  less  en'  it's  a  nigger,"  he  said,  grave 
ly.     Then   he   added,   reflectively:   "Mules   is  cufous 


54  Under  the  Magnolias. 

creeters,  too;  ole  Becky  heah  acts  sometimes  jes'  lak  a 
sucklin'  chile,  an'  den  I  jest  has  ter  frail  her  good." 

"And  does  that  do  her  any  good?"  asked  Evelyn. 

"Oh,  yassem,  it  does  her  a  sight  er  good.  She  does 
fine  fur  sev'al  days  atter  dat,"  and  Jim  relapsed  into 
quietude.  Sometimes  he  would  remain  quiet  for  sev 
eral  miles,  then  he  would  rouse  up  and  detail  another  bit 
of  the  history  of  his  own  or  the  Montgomery  ancestry. 
He  amused  them  very  much,  in  that  he  seemed  to  think 
that  his  own  glory  and  that  of  his  former  owners  indis- 
solubly  connected. 

"Yassem,  you'll  lak'  my  people.  Dere  ain't  no  finer 
young  man  in  de  wull  dan  Marse  Laurie,  dat's  de  young 
doctor,  ma'am.  An'  Miss  Ma'an  an'  Miss  Fannie  is 
putty  young  ladies,  jes'  lak'  you,  ma'am,"  and  he  looked 
at  Evelyn. 

They  ate  the  noon  lunch  by  the  side  of  a  pretty,  clear 
brook,  that  flowed  across  the  road,  while  on  either  hand 
stretched  interminable  forests  of  long  leaf  pines.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  a  most  luxuriant  growth  of 
long-stemmed  grass,  that  swayed  in  the  wind,  reminding 
one  forcibly  of  a  beautiful  field  of  growing  wheat,  while 
flowers  of  every  hue  glowed  like  gems  amid  the  verdure. 
There  seemed  literally  no  end  to  the  grand  forests  of 
pines.  Sometimes  they  descended  to  the  swamp  that 
marked  the  course  of  a  large  creek  or  bayou,  but  only  to 
ascend  again  to  the  monotony  of  the  ever  present  pines. 
Several  times  Jim,  whose  quick  eye  never  failed  to  see 
them,  would  point  out  two  or  three  deer  grazing  in  a 
far  distant  green  glade.  Once  they  drove  very  near  a 
large  buck  with  his  doe  and  fawn.  How  beautiful  they 


Southward  Bound.  55 

looked  as  the  "antlered  monarch"  lifted  his  stately  head 
for  a  "moment,  snuffed  the  tainted  gale,"  and  then  with 
his  family  he  bounded  away,  and  sought  a  surer  retreat 
in  the  depths  of  the  swamp.  Evelyn  held  her  breath 
almost  with  delight  and  admiration.  Indeed,  she  en 
joyed  this  singular  journey  in  the  rough  wagon,  over 
these  wild  hills  and  through  these  dark  swamps.  Every 
thing  wore  the  glamor  of  novelty,  and  isn't  that  what  the 
world  is  ever  running  after,  ever  the  same  ceaseless  cry 
for  something  new  since  the  days  of  Athens'  glory? 

The  miles  and  miles  of  uninterrupted  pine  forest  at 
last  gave  way,  and  an  opening  in  the  dense  wall  of  tim 
ber  was  greeted  by  Evelyn  and  her  mother  with  delight. 

"How  many  miles  farther  will  we  have  to  travel,  Jim, 
before  we  reached  the  Brierwood  neighborhood?"  asked 
Evelyn. 

"Hit's  er  matter  of  erbout  two  miles  an  er  half 
furder,  ma'am.  It's  jes'  two  miles  dis  side  our  place. 
Wen  you  sees  our  place,  you'll  see  a  putty  place  an' 
er  ole  place,  too,"  said  Jim,  with  evident. pride;  after 
which  announcement  he  seemed  to  relapse  into  a  kind 
of  melancholy,  from  which  nothing  aroused  him  again. 

The  free  and  easy  relations  that  existed  between 
the  master  and  his  slave  in  the  Southern  States  has 
found  no  parallel  in  any  other  state  of  society,  and 
not  until  the  present  generation  passes  away,  will  the 
old  feeling  be  forgotten,  and  become  a  thing  of  the  past. 
To  some,  a  happy  memory ;  to  others,  a  most  bitter  cup, 
flavored  deeply  with  a  desire  for  revenge  on  the  part 
of  the  ex-slave. 

To  Jim,  the  memory  of  his  care-free  boyhood,  with  his 


56  Under  the  Magnolias. 

young  masters  for  his  playmates,  held  nothing  but  pleas 
ant  thoughts. 

The  sun  was  sinking  behind  a  dense  wall  of  pines, 
when  the  wagon  was  driven  up  in  front  of  a  farmhouse, 
and  Jim  announced : 

"Heah's  Mr.  Bliss's  house,  ma'am,  an'  heah's  Mr.  Mel 
ton/'  as  that  gentleman  came  out  of  the  house,  on  hear 
ing  the  vociferous  barking  of  several  hounds,  who  made 
such  a  baying  that  Evelyn  was  quite  frightened.  Jim 
hastened  to  reassure  her. 

"Dere's  no  danger  in  dem  dogs,  ma'am;  they's  no 
biten'  stock;  they's  jes'  varmint  dogs,  ma'am,  an'  deer 
dogs,  they  never  bites  folks,  ma'am." 

After  the  happy  meeting  between  the  farmer  and  his 
wife  and  daughter  was  over,  the  whole  Bliss  household, 
both  black  and  white,  were  on  the  scene  and  joined  most 
heartily  in  the  welcome  to  the  newcomers.  Mr.  Bliss, 
as  his  old  mother  had  predicted  of  him,  was  very  happy 
to  share  his  hospitality  with  his  old  friends  and  former 
neighbors. 

Jim  stood  by  waiting  patiently  until  the  greetings 
should  Be  well  over,  before  calling  to  mind  that  he  had 
a  load  of  trunks  and  boxes  in  his  wagon,  to  be  disposed 
of  before  he  could  go  on  home. 

Aleck,  too,  had  come  into  hearing  by  this  time,  crack 
ing  his  whip  like  pistol  shots  on  the  evening  still 
ness. 

"How  did  it  happen,  Jim,  that  Aleck  got  here  almost 
as  soon  as  you  did,  and  he  with  an  ox  team?"  asked  Mr. 
Bliss. 

"Well,  suh,  I  loaded  him  up  an'  got  him  off  by  day- 


Southward  Bound.  57 

light,  an'  leas'ways,  let  him  git  three  hours  de  start  ov 
me  an'  de  ladies,  suh.  I  knowed  we  had  er  plenty  er 
time,  so's  I  nuver  hurried  de  ladies  none,"  Jim  answered, 
with  unabated  good  humor. 

"Well,  Jim,  I  am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you 
for  your  good  care  of  them.  Some  of  these  days  maybe 
I  will  have  it  in  my  power  to  do  something  to  repay 
you  for  this  kindness  to  me  and  them,"  Mr.  Melton  said, 
feelingly,  and  then  added:  "Be  sure  you  return  my 
thanks  to  your  master  for  the  use  of  his  wagons."  He 
felt  deeply  the  kindness  these  people  had  lavished  on 
him.  People  whom  all  his  life  he  had  spoken  of  in  the 
harshest  terms;  whom  he  had  been  taught  to  regard  as 
cruel  and  unjust. 

"John,  suppose  we  get  in  and  drive  over  to  the  cabin 
in  the  wilderness,  and  unload  these  wagons  and  save 
ourselves  the  trouble  of  unloading  them  here  and  re 
loading  them  again  on  Monday.  Don't  you  think  that 
will  be  a  saving  of  trouble  ?"  asked  Mr.  Melton. 

"A  capital  idea,  Mr.  Melton,"  answered  friend  John, 
as  he  followed  Mr.  Melton  into  the  wagon.  Calling 
Aleck  to  follow,  they  were  soon  lost  to  view  in  the  dim 
forest. 

Mrs.  Bliss  now  took  her  guests  into  the  house  where 
everything  showed  the  thriftiness  of  this  notable  New 
England  housekeeper.  There  were  two  bright  looking 
little  girls,  who  tried  to  hide  in  the  folds  of  their 
mother's  dress,  but  Evelyn,  who  dearly  loved  children, 
soon  had  them  coaxed  over  to  her,  and  by  the  time  the 
men  returned  from  the  clearing,  she  had  completely  won 
their  little  hearts. 


58  Under  the  Magnolias. 

A  new  cornshuck  mat  occupied  a  place  at  the  top  of 
the  steps,  and  at  the  end  of  the  gallery  stood  a  shelf 
with  two  shining  hooped  buckets  for  holding  the  using 
water  of  the  family.  A  tin  wash-basin,  as  bright  as  tin 
could  be  made,  was  placed  beside  the  buckets.  Nearby 
was  a  roller  from  which  depended  a  spotless  crash  towel 
which  was  used  indiscriminately  by  the  whole  family. 

Evelyn  noticed  the  wide,  cool  hall  where  the  family 
spent  most  of  the  time  from  May  until  October.  On 
the  walls  hung  a  thermometer,  and  several  branching 
deer  horns;  trophies  of  Mr.  Bliss's  skill  as  a  marks 
man.  The  latter  were  used  as  hat  racks  in  this  primi 
tive  region.  The  floors  of  yellow  pine  were  immaculate 
ly  clean.  Their  hostess  took  them  into  a  small  room 
which  opened  into  the  hall  and  helped  them  take  off 
their  things,  and  herself  brought  them  fresh  water 
to  bathe  their  faces  and  hands.  When  they  had  com 
pleted  their  preparations  for  supper,  she  invited  them 
into  her  room,  which  served  as  sitting-room,  now  that 
the  weather  was  growing  a  little  chilly  in  the  evenings. 
A  bright  pineknot  fire  burned  on  the  wide  hearth,  in 
front  of  which  was  spread  a  soft  sheepskin  rug,  and  on 
it  sat  a  large  bald-headed  baby,  the  pet  of  the  Bliss 
household.  He  was  crowing  lustily  and  trying  to  pull 
in  pieces  a  poor  inoffensive  little  kitten,  whose  plaintive 
mews  appealed  to  Evelyn's  tender  nature.  She  in 
stantly  liberated  the  kitten  and,  seizing  the  baby,  she 
gave  him  a  good  hug,  which  proceeding  from  an  entire 
stranger  so  terrified  his  babyship,  as  to  elicit  a  succes 
sion  of  infantile  screams.  Here  his  little  black  nurse, 


Southward  Bound.  59 

Judy,  ran  up,  and  taking  him  from  the  young  lady, 
shamed  him  for  crying  so,  as  she  said : 

"Laurie's  so  'feared  er  strangers,  but  he  laks  hit 
namesake.  He  ain't  'feared  er  Marse  Laurie,  is  you, 
Laurie  ?" 

"What  is  your  baby's  name,  'Liza?  I  did  not  quite 
catch  what  the  child  called  him;  and  is  it  a  boy  or  a 
girl  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Melton. 

"He  is  named  for  our  young  doctor,  Laurie  Mont 
gomery,"  answered  Mrs.  Bliss,  looking  proudly  at  the 
fine  baby,  who  seemed  now  quite  restored  to  happiness, 
sitting  astride  Judy's  hip,  with  one  chubby  white  hand 
pulling  affectionately  at  her  wool.  He  looked  very 
contentedly  at  Evelyn  from  his  stronghold,  but  seemed 
to  desire  no  further — or  rather,  nearer  acquaintance 
with  her. 

"I  am  so  fond  of  babies,  Mrs.  Bliss,  I  wish  he  would 
let  me  play  with  him,"  said  Evelyn. 

"Oh,  well,  he  will  get  used  to  you  in  a  few  days,  and 
do  to  you  as  he  does  Doctor  Laurie.  He  cries  after  him 
whenever  he  comes  over  here,"  answered  the  mother. 

Evelyn  wondered  if  everyone  in  the  Brierwood  neigh 
borhood  was  going  to  talk  of  this  young  doctor. 

Mrs.  Bliss  now  excused  herself,  and  went  into  the 
kitchen  to  look  after  the  supper.  She  always  broiled 
the  tender  vension  steaks  herself,  to  be  sure  they  were 
just  right.  She  was  too  careful  a  housekeeper  to  leave 
such  an  important  matter  to  Chloe,  the  black  cook. 
The  table  was  bountifully  supplied  with  light  bread,  egg- 
bread  and  hominy,  fried  sausage,  cold  ham,  and  the  juicy 
venison  steaks.  A  large  dish  of  rich  yellow  butter  be- 


60  Under  the  Magnolias. 

spoke  a  well  supplied  dairy.  Cold  vegetables  were  al 
ways  a  part  of  the  evening  repast,  as  Mr.  Bliss  declared 
them  a  necessity  to  him. 

"Evelyn  and  her  mother,  of  course,  must  be  hungry, 
after  their  long  day's  travel,"  said  Mrs.  Bliss;  and  in 
deed  they  were,  especially  the  former,  and  did  full  jus 
tice  to  the  delightfully  prepared  meal.  Still  more  did 
they  all  enjoy  the  genuine  hospitality  of  the  happy 
farmer  and  the  proud  mistress  of  this  plentiful  home. 

"You  don't  tell  me,  John,  that  all  the  farmers  in  this 
section  are  as  prosperous  as  you  seem  to  be?" 

"No,  Mrs.  Mjelton,  I  don't  mean  to  brag  on  myself, 
but  I  can  tell  you  that  Yankee  pluck  and  energy  will 
go  as  far  toward  making  a  man  prosperous  in  the  South 
as  it  does  in  the  North.  Nearly  all  the  farms  are 
poorly  managed  and  the  farmers  correspondingly  poor, 
in  this  hill  country.  The  people  have  not  yet  learned 
to  get  along  under  the  changed  order  of  things,  but 
they  are  getting  in  practice  pretty  fast,  and  there  is 
a  bright  future  in  store  for  this  country,  I  think,"  said 
Mr.  Bliss,  hopefully ;  and  then  he  added :  "I  see  that  Mr. 
Melton  has  not  lost  any  of  his  old  energy,  and  I  think 
I  can  predict  with  safety  that  he  will  soon  be  inde 
pendent  again." 

"I  will,  if  'energy  and  pluck'  will  accomplish  it,"  he 
said,  hopefully.  "I  think,  John,"  he  resumed,  "if  it  will 
be  convenient  for  you  to  help  us,  we  will  move  over  to 
'The  Refuge,'  as  Evelyn  says  we  must  call  our  new  home, 
as  early  as  next  Monday.  Then  I  will  be  much  nearer 
my  work  and  can  begin  my  new  life  in  real  earnest." 

"Yes,  it  will  be  quite  convenient  for  me,  Mr.  Melton 


Southward  Bound.  61 

but  I  don't  see  ho\v  I'm  to  get  along  without  you,  now 
that  I've  had  you  here  for  company  so  long.  We  shall 
miss  you  very  much,  won't  we,  'Liza  ?" 

"Yes,  we  certainly  will,  and  you'll  have  to  promise  to 
come  over  to  see  us  mighty  often,  or  we  can't  let  you 
leave  us,"  she  responded,  warmly. 

They  then  went  into  the  sitting-room  and  Evelyn 
told  them  of  her  mother's  illness,  but  kept  to  herself  the 
doctor's  statement  in  regard  to  her  mother's  lung 
trouble;  that  she  would  tell  only  to  her  father. 

Mr.  Melton  had  noticed  his  wife's  pallor  and  thinness, 
but  laid  it  to  the  trials  through  which  she  had  passed ; 
he  had  not  thought  of  her  being  ill. 


62  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTER  V. 

LOOKING     BACKWARD. 

"At  length  I  saw  a  lady  within  call, 
Stiller  than  chisell'd  marble,  standing  thtre; 
A  daughter  of  the  gods,  divinely  tall, 
And  most  divinely  fair." — Tennyson. 

IN  1860  the  family  of  Doctor  Montgomery  consisted 
of  himself,  his  wife,  and  four  children,  and  an  orphaned 
niece,  of  whom  he  was  legal  guardian. 

The  eldest  son,  James  Montgomery,  was  then  a  stu 
dent  in  a  Northern  university,  but  at  the  first  call  of 
the  South  for  volunteers  to  defend  her  borders  from  in 
vasion  by  the  North,  he  hastened  home  and  joined  the 
regiment  in  which  his  father  had  already  enlisted  as 
surgeon. 

He  was  wildly  enthusiastic  and  thrice  ready  to  do 
battle  for  the  land  he  loved.  When  his  native  State,  in 
line  with  her  sister  States,  withdrew  from  the  Union, 
he  was  triumphant.  Standing  before  his  mother  with 
flashing  eyes  and  uplifted  arm,  he  exclaimed  in  tones 
that  thrilled  her  soul  with  dread  presentiment: 

"Mother,  I  would  rather  give  my  right  arm !  I  would 


Looking  Backward.  63 

rather  give  my  life,  than  that  my  State  shall  ever  go 
back  into  the  Union." 

Alas !  he  did  give  that  strong  right  arm,  he  did  give 
that  brave  young  life,  and  his  mother,  waiting  in  her 
darkened  home,  listened  for  the  buoyant  step  that  she 
knew  she  would  hear  no  more. 

It  was  a  bright  morning  in  early  spring  when  they 
left  for  Virginia,  whither  their  regiment  had  been 
ordered. 

The  negroes  on  the  place  had  all  come  up  to  "the 
house"  to  bid  a  last  good-bye  to  ''Marster"  and  "Marse" 
James,  and  many  were  the  parting  admonitions  to  "tek 
keer  on  yourse'f  an'  doan'  git  in  reach  er  dem  Yankee 
guns,  for  de  Lord's  sake." 

The  children  came  next  and  then  the  brave  mother, 
as  she  stood  with  pale  face,  striving  to  crush  back  the 
feelings  that  threatened  to  overcome  her.  There  would 
be  days  enough  to  indulge  the  luxury  of  tears,  she  wisely 
thought,  and  she  did  not  want  to  unman  her  loved  ones 
now. 

While  father  was  giving  a  few  last  directions  to 
mother,  James  went  in  search  of  his  cousin,  who  was 
not  with  the  group  on  the  gallery.  He  knew  why  she 
was  not  there,  for  he  had  had  similar  experience  with 
her  before  when  the  annual  going  away  to  college  hail 
come.  She  would  always  hide  to  avoid  that  last  fare 
well  which  some  natures  find  so  hard  to  endure. 

She  had  kissed  her  uncle  tenderly  some  time  before, 
though  not  in  the  light  of  a  farewell — but  James !  that 
was  different.  He  had  been  her  self-constituted  pro 
tector,  her  childish  hero,  ever  since  she  had  come  to 


64  Under  the  Magnolias. 

live  at  The  Magnolias,  as  a  shy  orphan,  only  eight  years 
old.  He  knew  and  understood  the  tender-hearted,  sensi 
tive  girl  as  no  one  else  did,  and  fully  sympathized  with 
her  in  this  sorrowful  parting. 

He  found  her  in  a  little  rose-embowered  arhor  at  the 
end  of  the  gallery.  She  was  curled  up  on  a  little  rustic 
seat,  while  the  tears  fell  unheeded  from  her  lovely  brown 
eyes. 

As  he  drew  near  the  vine-wreathed  summer  house, 
memory  brought  vividly  before  him  in  swift  succession, 
incidents  and  scenes  long  ago  enacted  there.  'Twas 
there  he  and  Mamie  had  studied  together  their  youthful 
lessons,  and  as  they  grew  older  they  read  their  favorite 
poets  or  told  in  confidence  their  dreams  and  aspirations 
for  the  future. 

<rMamie,  darling,"  he  softly  uttered,  and  his  cousin 
sprang  up  with  a  sob  that  was  half  sorrow  and  half 
joy,  and  threw  herself  in  his  outstretched  arms.  He 
folded  her  to  his  breast  as  he  realized  for  the  first  time 
what  she  really  was  to  him.  Not  playmate,  not  cousin 
any  longer,  but  a  woman  beloved  of  her  lover.  In  that 
supreme  moment  that  tries  the  strongest  hearts,  that 
full  consciousness  came  to  him  with  the  still  sweeter 
assurance  that  he  was  equally  loved. 

"My  love,  I  have  only  a  few  moments  to  speak,  as 
father  is  waiting  for  me,  but  I  must  tell  you  before  I 
go  that  I  love  you  better  than  anyone  else  on  earth,  and 
to  ask  you  to  be  true  to  me.  Remember,  Mamie,  that 
I  will  expect  you  to  cheer  and  encourage  my  precious 
mother  through  these  hard  trials,  for  Laurie  is  too  young 
for  her  to  rely  on  as  she  will  on  you,  dearest,"  then, 


Looking  Backward.  65 

after  repeatedly  kissing  her,  he  unclasped  the  dimpled 
arms  from  around  his  neck  and  hurried  to  his  father, 
who  was  now  at  the  gate. 

He  knew  the  best  thing  for  Mamie  was  to  feel  that 
he  had  left  his  mother  in  her  care;  then  she  would 
have  a  mission  to  perform  for  his  sweet  sake  and  would 
sacredly  fulfill  it.  And  he  was  not  mistaken.  In  the 
three  dark  years  that  followed,  she  was  ever  thinking 
for  "Auntie"  and  for  others.  Always  cheerful,  always 
busy,  helping  the  noble  mistress  in  all  the  plantation 
business,  which  was  an  onerous  burden  on  a  large  planta 
tion. 

All  the  clothing  for  the  family  and  also  for  the  negroes 
had  to  be  woven  on  the  place,  and  only  a  few  people 
in  each  neighborhood  understood  these  domestic  arts, 
so  that  the  ladies  were  compelled  to  learn  them,  and  in 
turn  teach  them  to  the  less  quick-witted  negro  women. 

Mamie  readily  learned  how  to  spin  the  warp  and 
filling,  to  dye  with  the  home-raised  indigoes  and  native 
barks,  and  lastly  the  tedious  operation  of  putting  the 
threads  in  the  rough  loom  and  weaving  it  into  cloth. 

Nobly  did  she,  like  many  another  Southern  girl,  toil 
early  and  late  that  she  might  have  encouraging  words 
to  send  to  the  brave  soldiers  at  the  front. 

Then,  too,  they  kept  open  house  on  this  military  road, 
for  the  soldiers  who  were  ever  stopping  to  share  their 
noble  hospitality.  Officers  and  men  alike,  were  treated 
with  a  cordiality  that  was  entered  into  by  the  black 
members  of  the  Montgomery  household  as  warmly  as 
by  the  white  ladies  and  children. 

Ah !  who  that  passed  through  those  days  of  the  early 


66  Under  the  Magnolias. 

sixties  can  ever  forget  them?  Letters  came  after  long 
intervals.  Sometimes  weeks  passed  after  a  battle  was 
fought  ere  they  knew  whose  names  filled  up  the  casualty 
list. 

James's  first  brief  furlough  came  to  Mamie  and  his 
mother  as  a  rift  of  sunshine  in  a  dreary  day.  How 
Mamie  hung  upon  his  every  word !  How  she  treasured 
his  smiles  and  glances  as  he  petted  and  praised  her  to 
her  heart's  content,  calling  her  his  heroine.  He  told 
her  that  of  all  the  beautiful  women  he  had  met  since  he 
left  Louisiana  none  could  compare  with  her  in  loveliness ; 
and  looking  on  the  exquisite  face  none  could  doubt  it. 

"You  are  more  perfect  now,  Mamie,  than  when 
Tauzin  painted  your  portrait  in  New  Orleans,  beautiful 
as  that  is,  and  when  the  war  is  over  I  am  coming  home 
to  claim  you  as  my  sweet  wife,  darling."  The  soft 
eyes  fell  beneath  his  passionate  gaze  and  the  sweet  face 
grew  red  with  blushes  as  she  answered: 

"Yes,  if  you  wish  it  so,  James,"  and  he  put  his  arm 
around  her  and  drew  her  into  the  sitting-room  to  tell 
mother  all  their  plans. 

Mrs.  Montgomery  was  very  much  opposed  to  the  mar 
riage  of  first  cousins,  as  was  her  husband,  but  now  she 
felt  that  she  could  not  say  anything  to  cast  a  chill  over 
the  happiness  of  these  dear  children  in  the  brief  period 
they  had  to  spend  together,  so  a  loving  consent  was  given 
them  to  love  each  other  as  much  as  they  wished  for  the 
present.  Mrs.  Montgomery  felt  assured  that  she  could 
trust  their  future  to  the  guidance  of  their  Father  in 
heaven. 

The  happy  days  passed  as  indeed  on  "angel's  wings" 


Looking  Backward.  67 

and  the  parting  came,  and  James  was  gone,  never  to 
return !  The  autumn  came,  bringing  with  it  the  awful 
news  that  plunged  the  household  at  The  Magnolias  into 
the  deepest  grief — James  was  dead! 

The  father  wrote  that  the  brave  young  captain  had 
lost  his  right  arm  in  a  reconnaissance  of  the  enemy's 
position  during  a  night  sortie.  Three  weeks  later  he 
died  in  a  hospital. 

His  father  buried  him  in  a  far  distant  State,  and 
life  at  home  went  on,  apparently,  just  the  same  as  if 
there  were  no  breaking  hearts  from  which  the  sunshine 
of  life  had  fled. 

A  brave  Christian  soldier!  Who  shall  say  he  died 
in  vain?  No  life  given  in  the  cause  of  patriotism  is 
ever  uselessly  sacrificed,  but  the  cause  for  which  he  laid 
that  life  upon  the  altar,  a  willing  offering,  moves  on, 
growing  grander  and  stronger  in  the  march  of  the  ages, 
toward  universal  freedom. 

To  Mamie  Montgomery  the  death  of  her  lover-cousin 
was  a  cruel  stroke,  from  which  she  was  long  in  recover 
ing.  She  grew  so  thin  and  pale  that  she  seemed  but 
the  ghost  of  her  former  self  and  awakened  grave  fears 
in  her  aunt  as  to  the  ultimate  result  of  her  despairing 
grief.  But  youth  triumphed,  and  after  several  weeks  of 
nervous  fever,  she  began  a  slow  convalescence.  She 
seemed  to  be  etherealized  into  a  being  all  soul  and  spirit 
now. 

One  day  as  she  walked  slowly  across  the  hall  dressed 
in  a  flowing  white  wrapper,  Ned,  one  of  the  house  boys, 
who  was  standing  on  the  back  steps  at  the  time,  observed 
to  his  companion : 


68  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Ketter,  don't  Miss  Mamie  put  you  in  ruin'  ov  dat 
angul  whut  we  wuz  lookin'  at  yistiddy,  in  Marse  Laurie's 
book?" 

"Yas,  she  duz  percisely,  'cepin'  she  hain't  got  no 
whings,"  replied  Cato,  as  he  watched,  with  admiring 
eyes,  the  slender,  white  clad  figure  of  his  young  mistress. 

"Well,  Ketter,  I  allus  feels  kinder  'ligeous  wen  I  looks 
atter  her,  she's  so  lubly  and  wite,"  Ned  added  under 
his  breath,  as  Mamie  disappeared  through  the  door  of 
her  room,  then  he  remarked  reflectively,  "Ketter,  I 
wanders  ef  we'll  be  wite  an  putty  wen  we  gits  to  heb- 
ben?" 

What  Cato  thought  on  the  subject  will  never  be 
learned,  for  just  then  the  cook  called  angrily  to  them 
from  the  kitchen,  and  they  scampered  away,  for  that 
worthy  dame  kept  them  in  wholesome  dread  of  her  irate 
temper. 

Time  and  youth  overcome  the  greatest  grief,  and  to 
Mamie's  aid  came  a  deep  religious  fervor.  She  seemed 
to  have  passed  through  the  crucible  in  which  the  dross 
was  consumed  and  the  pure  gold  of  her  character  left 
resplendent. 

Laurie  wished  vehemently  to  go  and  take  his  dead 
brother's  place,  but  his  mother,  who  had  so  courageously 
given  her  husband  and  eldest  son  to  fight  for  their  coun 
try,  felt  that  she  could  not  let  him  leave  her  now.  In 
this  feeling  Mamie  shared  most  earnestly.  She  promised 
him,  though,  that  if  the  war  continued  uutil  he  reached 
the  age  of  sixteen,  she  would  consent  for  him  to  join 
his  father,  if  he  still  wished  to  do  so ;  and  she  had  not 
a  doubt  as  to  the  choice  he  would  make. 


Looking  Backward.  69 

As  the  months  passed  and  Doctor  Montgomery  real 
ized  the  utter  hopelessness  of  the  cause  he  loved  so  well, 
he  did  not  urge  his  wife,  as  he  would  otherwise  have 
done,  to  send  their  only  son,  a  mere  youth,  to  join  the 
army. 

The  year  following  was  full  of  brilliant  victories,  yet 
fraught  with  great  disaster  to  the  Confederacy.  It 
closed  in  gloom  and  the  next  May  Lee  surrendered  at 
Appomattox  Court  House,  and  the  South  was  turned 
over  to  a  fate  darker  and  more  direful  than  even  the 
most  pessimistic  had  ever  dreamed. 

Bereft  of  loved  ones,  of  liberty,  of  wealth,  the  South 
was  a  desolate  ruin.  Had  the  victorious  North  but 
stopped  here  it  would  have  been  far  better,  but  she 
sought  by  force  of  arms  to  place  the  master  at  the  mercy 
of  his  former  slave.  To  place  a  noble,  chivalrous  civili 
zation  under  the  domination  of  the  half-barbarian  hordes 
of  African  descent.  But  God  delivered  them,  as  He 
always  does  deliver,  His  chosen  races  from  the  domin 
ion  of  the  ignoble  and  the  base. 

Laurie  Montgomery  was  dreadfully  dissatisfied  that 
the  war  was  over,  and  he  had  not  been  allowed  to  strike 
a  blow  in  defense  of  the  "stars  and  bars."  The  banner 
that  he  loved  with  all  a  boy's  enthusiasm,  had  been 
furled  in  darkest  night  and  nothing  left  but  despair. 
He  declared  with  the  impulsiveness  of  youth  that  he 
would  never  get  over  it. 

Doctor  Montgomery  was  more  fortunate  than  many 
Southern  planters,  in  that  he  had  his  home  left  unmo 
lested.  But  how  changed  was  everything  else  to  which 
he  had  been  accustomed.  The  negroes  were  insolent  to 


7o  Under  the  Magnolias. 

an  almost  unbearable  degree,  and  at  the  first  opportu 
nity  left  them  and  went  to  try  their  fortunes  on  a  Red 
River  plantation. 

Only  a  few  of  the  more  faithful  remained,  and  they 
were  old  and  so  decrepit  as  to  prove  more  of  a  burden 
than  a  help  to  their  old  master.  In  the  nobleness  of  his 
heart  he  felt  in  honor  bound  to  keep  those  who  wished 
to  stay  with  him  as  long  as  they  behaved  themselves 
properly. 

Among  those  who  kept  their  places  on  the  plantation 
was  the  old  man  who  had  followed  James  Montgomery 
as  body  servant  during  his  service  in  the  Confederate 
army.  He  had  been  given  many  opportunities  of  es 
caping  beyond  the  Federal  lines  had  he  chosen  to  do  so ; 
but  he  was  loyal  to  his  young  master,  whom  he  had 
"helped  ter  raise,"  as  he  often  boasted  to  others. 

When  asked  why  he  did  not  go  to  his  friends,  the 
Yankees,  he  invariably  answered,  "What  Marse  James 
guine  do  ef  I  lef  him  heah  so  f  er  f  um  home  ?  I  promise 
Mistis  ter  tek  keer  on  her  boy,  an'  ef  I  doan  do  it  Gawd 
will  sholy  punish  me,  kase  I  promise  on  de  holy  Bible." 
So  he  went  on  his  way,  as  usual,  providing  something  to 
satisfy  the  appetite  of  the  young  man  whom  he  loved 
so  well  and  served  so  faithfully.  He  knew  just  how  to 
please  his  master  with  a  bit  of  broiled  chicken  or  fish 
that  he  had  procured  "by  de  hook  o'  my  crook"  as  he 
explained  to  the  young  officer  when  questioned  as  to 
how  he  managed  to  get  anything  above  rations  in  such 
destitute  sections  as  they  often  found  themselves. 

Old  Daddy  Mack  had  justly  earned  the  support  and 


Looking  Backward.  71 

protection  which  the  parents  of  Captain  Montgomery  so 
willingly  and  faithfully  gave  him  in  his  old  age. 

When  he  returned  home,  after  the  death  of  his  young 
master  and  shook  the  hand  of  his  weeping  mistress,  he 
told  her  all  he  could  remember  of  the  last  days  of  the 
young  hero's  life.  The  tears  streamed  down  the  dusky 
face  as  he  discoursed  to  the  throng  that  crowded  about 
him.  To  Old  Mauma  Silvy,  whom  James  had  loved 
in  his  infancy  and  boyhood,  he  had  sent  a  message  and 
remembrance,  and  the  old  woman  had  received  it  with 
loud  lamentations,  her  apron  thrown  over  her  head  in 
the  abandonment  of  grief. 

Daddy  Mack  had  not  done  any  real  labor  for  sev 
eral  years  before  he  had  gone  to  the  war,  and  after 
it  closed  he  was  a  privileged  character  and  only  did 
what  he  pleased  to  do,  and  that  was  either  to  work 
at  basket  making  or  to  fish  in  the  clear  streams,  where 
abounded  the  trout,  bream,  jack,  spotted  cat,  and  many 
other  varieties  of  fish.  It  was  a  given  up  fact,  on 
the  plantation,  that  if  Daddy  Mack  could  not  catch 
fish,  it  was  because  there  were  none  to  be  caught. 

He  always  had  more  baskets  on  hand  than  were 
needed  on  the  place,  and  these  he  sold  and  put  by 
the  money,  for  which  he  had  no  use  and  never  spent. 
At  his  death  he  gave  it  all  to  his  mistress,  who  bought 
with  it  a  slab  of  marble  and  placed  it  above  the  grave 
of  the  faithful  old  servant. 

Many  were  the  visits  the  children  paid  to  the  old 
man's  cabin,  'and  while  he  wove  the  long  broom-sedge 
into  baskets  and  "Fanners,"  as  he  called  a  wide,  flat 
kind  of  basket,  he  would  never  weary  of  telling  them 


72  Under  the  Magnolias. 

stories  of  their  ancestors,  and  also  of  the  war.  He 
doubtless  often  exaggerated  the  part  he  had  played 
in  it,  as  servant  of  the  dear  brother,  whose  memory 
was  so  lovingly  venerated  by  the  Montgomery  chil 
dren,  who  never  tired  of  listening  to  stories  of  his 
army  life.  The  old  negro  sitting  there  in  his  split 
bottomed  chair,  with  the  sunlight  sifting  through  the 
green  foliage  over  his  grizzled  head,  the  white  children 
grouped  about  him,  made  a  picture  that  had  its  counter 
part  on  many  a  Southern  plantation. 

The  little  ones,  and  the  youths,  too,  both  black  and 
white,  listened  with  reverence  to  the  old  man  as  he 
told  stories  and  busily  plied  his  trade  with  industrious 
fingers,  while  the  sun,  all  too  soon,  hastened  to  hide 
himself  behind  the  western  hills. 

Heading  the  Bible  to  him  was  a  privilege  which 
Mamie  never  neglected,  on  the  quiet  Sunday  after 
noons  after  church  services.  His  favorite  chapters 
were  those  which  related  to  the  visit  of  "Niggerde- 
mus"  to  the  Saviour,  and  the  going  forth  of  death 
on  the  pale  horse.  The  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  too,  was 
a  fine  favorite  with  him,  though  it  is  doub'tful  if  he 
ever  understood  it  in  an  allegorical  sense. 

Mamie  and  her  aunt  took  especial  care  to  see  that 
Daddy  never  lacked  for  clothing  or  food,  and  to  be 
sure  on  the  latter  point  he  always  got  his  meals  in 
the  kitchen. 

After  the  war,  the  teaching  of  the  children,  Marion 
and  Fannie,  devolved  entirely  on  their  mother  and 
young  cousin.  Mrs.  Montgomery,  though  a  fine  mu 
sician  and  thoroughly  accomplished  woman,  felt  that 


Looking  Backward.  73 

she  had  her  hands  full  already,  in  managing  a  house 
hold  under  the  new  regime  of  untried,  and  often  in 
efficient  servants.  She  could  not,  therefore,  devote 
the  time  she  wished,  to  the  education  of  her  little 
daughters.  A  great  deal  of  the  time  they  were  turned 
over  to  Mamie's  care,  and  patiently  did  she  perform 
her  allotted  share  in  their  education.  They  were  very 
fond  of  their  gentle,  lovely  cousin,  and  were  ever 
ready  to  please  her. 

Mrs.  Montgomery's  cook,  who  had  had  the  sole  man 
agement  of  the  culinary  department  for  years,  left 
her  and  went  to  Red  River,  that  paradise  of  the  freed- 
men.  Old  Mauma  Silvy,  who  had  never  done  any 
hard  work  in  her  life,  had  to  come  into  the  kitchen 
in  her  place.  With  the  assistance  of  a  little  girl,  she 
and  her  mistress  took  charge  of  the  work  that  had 
formerly  heen  divided  among  a  half  a  dozen  much 
more  efficient  workers. 

Mauma  spent  much  valuable  time  in  bewailing  the 
"no  'countness  oh  de  young  niggahs  whut's  growin' 
up."  She  often  exclaimed  in  disgusted  tones,  "Whut 
meks  'em  so  no  'count  is  dey  can't  stay  nowheres  long 
enuff  ter  do  nutten,  Missus;  allus  gallavantin'  'roun' 
de  country,  meks  me  say  whut  I  does.  De  wull  is 
all  gwine  ter  ruin  quicker'n'  lightnin'  wid  tings 
turned  upside  down  disher  way,"  and  the  old  woman 
went  bustling  about  from  morning  until  night,  grow 
ing  slower  and  slower  every  day.  The  patient  mis 
tress,  noble  and  self-sacrificing,  with  the  courage  dis 
played  by  many  Southern  women,  put  her  own  slen- 


74  Under  the  Magnolias. 

der  hands,  that  had  never  known  toil,  to  the  loom  of 
domestic  life,  and  wrought  for  her  loved  ones  a  home 
of  peace  and  comfort  from  the  broken  and  knotted 
threads  of  discord  and  strife. 

It  required  all  the  tact,  patience,  and  dignity  of 
one  used  to  command,  to  get  along  smoothly  with  the 
newly  freed  negroes,  intoxicated,  as  it  were,  with  their 
liberty.  But  Mrs.  Montgomery  was  equal  to  the 
emergency,  and  well  did  she  discharge  her  duty  in 
this  trying  ordeal. 

In  teaching  the  children,  she  was  fairly  successful, 
too.  With  Marion,  the  elder  of  the  little  girls,  there 
was  no  difficulty,  as  she  was  naturally  studious  and 
Tery  fond  of  music.  She  would  do  her  lessons  or 
practice  the  most  tiresome  scales  for  hours  each  day; 
but  with  Fannie,  gay,  little,  impulsive  Fannie — it  was 
entirely  different.  She  disliked  music — the  music 
that  required  years  of  practice  and  study.  She  loved 
the  music  of  the  birds,  and  could  rival  them  in  sweetness 
of  tone  and  clearness  of  utterance,  as  she  warbled  plan 
tation  ditties  and  the  songs  that  she  was  so  quick  to 
learn.  She  declared  there  was  too  much  brightness  and 
music  outside  for  anyone  to  sit  in  a  darkened  parlor  and 
thrum  on  a  piano,  or  pick  a  guitar. 

So,  while  Marion  became  a  cultured  musician,  Fan 
nie  grew  strong  and  athletic;  cultivating  a  personal 
acquaintance  with  the  birds  and  flowers,  and  petting 
the  lambs  and  fawns. 

Laurie  was  sent  away  to  college  to  complete  his 
education,  and  Dr.  Montgomery  resumed  his  practice 


Looking  Backward.  75 

in  the  now  impoverished  neighborhood.  Entirely  un 
used  to  the  practice  of  economy  the  lesson  was  hard 
to  learn,  but  they  did  learn  it  and  thereby  managed  to 
save  money  enough  to  get  Laurie  through  college  and 
medical  school. 


76  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BLIGHTED     HOPES. 

"Which  weeps  the  comrade  of  my  choice, 
An  awful  thought,  a  life  removed, 
The  humanrhearted  man  I  loved, 
A  spirit,  not  a  breathing  voice."— Tennyson. 

THE  passing  years  added  the  touch  of  spirituality 
to  Mamie  Montgomery's  face,  making  it  one  of  rare 
loveliness.  She  seldom  went  into  company  after 
James'  death,  but  occasionally  visited  the  little  city 
of  Natchitoches,  where  some  of  her  college  friends  re 
sided,  and  there  in  a  quiet  way  she  mingled  with  some 
of  the  young  friends  of  other  days. 

When  in  '67  General  McLaughlin  was  sent  by  the 
Federal  government  to  keep  the  peace  in  North  Louisi 
ana,  a  regiment  of  bluecoats  was  sent  to  this  populous 
parish  to  see  justice  meted  out  to  the  "cullud"  brother 
of  the  South. 

They  were  stationed  at  the  city  of  Natchitoches  and, 
after  a  short  time,  the  officers  were  taken  into  the  best 
society  of  the  town,  which  beside  its  exclusiveness, 
boasted  of  being  the  oldest  town  in  the  State. 

Among  the  officers  who  figured  in  society  none  was 
more  popular,  nor  more  justly  so  than  Lieutenant  Bar- 


Blighted  Hopes.  77 

clay.  He  was,  without  being  positively  handsome,  so 
bright  in  manner,  so  cultured  and  witty,  as  to  render 
him  very  attractive  to  the  majority  of  women. 

He  seemed  attracted  to  Mamie  from  the  first,  and 
soon  became  so  assiduous  in  his  attentions  to  her  that 
his  brother  officers  accused  him  of  being  as  aggressive 
in  love  as  he  had  been  beforetime  in  war. 

And  Mamie — had  she  forgotten  the  strong,  deep  love 
of  her  youth  ?  To  some  natures  a  second  love  is  an  im 
possibility,  but  to  this  gentle,  confiding  girl,  her  very 
dependency  of  disposition  required  someone  to  love,  to 
look  up  to  with  admiration  and  respect.  We  are  not 
speaking  of  a  character  between  the  pages  of  a  romance, 
but  a  real  womanly  woman,  and  every  such  character 
has  a  heart  more  or  less  responsive  to  the  love  of  a  brave 
man. 

The  very  oppositeness  of  their  characters  held  mag 
netism  for  her,  as  to  his  strong,  masterful  nature  she 
turned  naturally  for  love. 

When  six  weeks  later  they  parted,  they  had  arrived 
at  that  stage  in  love,  which  George  Eliot  describes  as 
so  charming — when  each  knows  the  other  loves,  but  that 
love  has  never  been  chilled  by  expression. 

In  a  short  time  after  Mamie's  return  to  her  country 
home,  Lieutenant  Barclay  visited  her,  and  she  proudly 
presented  him  to  her  uncle  and  aunt,  knowing  that  they 
cherished  no  morbid  sentiment  in  regard  to  her  atti 
tude  toward  the  Federal  officer. 

On  his  first  visit  to  the  Magnolias  he  won  all  hearts, 
and  when  he  asked  the  consent  of  Dr.  Montgomery  to 
address  his  niece,  it  was  cordially  given. 


78  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Some  time  after  this  visit  Lieutenant  Barclay  was 
sent  on  military  business  to  the  small  village  of  Winona, 
some  seventy  miles  from  Natchitoches. 

The  direct  route  lay  not  far  below  the  Brierwood 
neighborhood,  and  naturally,  the  young  man  made  that 
his  first  point  of  destination. 

The  visit,  being  unexpected,  was  doubly  delightful 
to  Miss  Montgomery.  Lieutenant  Barclay  arrived  in 
time  for  dinner,  and  as  he  was  unusually  bright  and 
witty,  the  family  all  seemed  to  enjoy  his  visit  almost 
as  much  as  did  Mamie. 

While  at  the  table,  Laurie  noticed,  for  the  first  time, 
that  the  Lieutenant  wore  a  very  peculiar  ring,  unlike 
any  he  had  ever  seen  before. 

When  he  afterward  mentioned  it  to  his  cousin,  she 
replied  that  he  had  always  worn  it  since  she  first  met 
him. 

He  had  to  leave  by  two  o'clock,  therefore  the  family 
did  not  linger  long  at  the  table  that  day;  but  left  him 
and  Mamie  to  say  their  farewells  alone. 

She  went,  at  his  request,  to  the  gate  with  him.  A 
pretty  contrast  they  made,  as  they  slowly  passed  down 
the  broad  gardenia-bordered  walk. 

He,  with  his  strong  soldierly  bearing,  in  the  blue 
uniform  so  lately  a  hated  color  in  the  South,  and  she 
in  a  simple  white  muslin.  Her  pure,  delicate  face  was 
brightened  by  the  soft  blushes  that  came  and  went  with 
every  glance  of  the  eyes  that  expressed  such  passionate 
devotion. 

They  passed  through  the  gate  and  stood  just  beyond, 
where  the  golden  arborvitae  shrubs  shut  off  the  view 


Blighted  Hopes.  79 

from  the  house.  Then  he  took  her  hand  in  his,  so 
strong  and  yet  so  tender,  and  made  her  tell  him  again 
how  much  she  loved  him,  and  promise  him  that  when 
the  autumn  came,  she  would  let  him  lead  her  to  the 
marriage  altar.  Then  he  drew  her  to  his  breast  and 
kissed  the  sweet  lips  again  and  again. 

As  he  started  to  mount  his  horse,  she  dropped  the 
little  lace  handkerchief,  which  had  been  tucked  under 
her  belt,  and  he  instantly  stepped  back,  and,  picking  it 
up,  he  crushed  the  fragrant  little  thing  to  his  lips  pas 
sionately,  and  put  it  in  his  breast  pocket,  as  he  said: 
"Mayn't  I  take  it  with  me,  darling?  I  will  return  it 
to-morrow  night.  Your  last  letter  is  in  there,  too." 
Then,  mounting  his  horse,  he  galloped  down  the  avenue. 

To  every  maiden,  whose  lover  wears  a  uniform  and 
a  sword,  he  looks  as  knightly  as  Sir  Lancelot,  or  any 
other  hero  of  the  knightly  age,  and  so  Mamie  thought, 
as  she  watched  her  hero  ride  away,  for  she  turned  to 
Laurie,  who  now  joined  her,  and  said  brightly,  though 
the  gentle  eyes  were  swimming  in  tears: 

<rDoes  he  not  look  a  veritable  Sir  Galahad,  Laurie, 
as  he  started  in  search  of  the  Holy  Grail?"  to  which 
appeal  Laurie  replied  with  cruel  levity: 

"I  don't  know,  Mamie,  as  I  never  had  the  exquisite 
privilege  of  beholding  that  maiden  knight  as  he  rode 
away  to  seek  for  the  holy  cup;  but  I  know  for  a  cer 
tainty  that  your  knight  carries  with  him  my  little 
cousin's  heart.  I  hope  that  he  will  always  appreciate 
the  value  of  that  treasure  as  he  does  now." 

"Oh !  he  always  will,  Laurie,  I  am  very  sure,  for  he 
is  as  truly  noble  as  he  seems  to  be,"  she  replied,  blush- 


8o  Under  the  Magnolias. 

ing  pink  for  a  moment,  but  as  the  blood  went  back  she 
became  paler  than  usual,  and  an  anxious  look  took  the 
place  of  the  smiles  of  a  moment  ago. 

"Why  look  sad,  Mamie?  Your  hero  will  come  back 
to-morrow  night,  and  that  is  a  short  while  to  lose  sight 
of  him,  isn't  it?"  Laurie  asked,  as  they  walked  up  to 
the  steps. 

"I  do  not  know,  Laurie,  but  ever  since  James  left  us, 
never  to  return,  I  feel  a  nervous  dread  come  over  me 
after  bidding  good-bye  to  any  one  I  love,"  but  seeing 
Laurie's  gloomy  look,  she  assumed  a  lighter  tone,  and 
added : 

"But  I  will  get  over  it,  directly;  so  don't  mention, 
such  a  trifle  to  any  one,  dear  boy."  She  and  Laurie 
were  as  sister  and  brother,  as  well  as  confidential 
friends. 

Early  the  next  morning  Laurie  was  awakened  by 
the  violent  barking  of  his  hounds,  and  got  up  and  went 
to  the  window  to  see  who  it  was  that  could  arouse  the 
dogs  to  such  unusual  barking. 

He  saw  indistinctly,  in  the  dim  light  of  dawn,  a 
horseman  riding  rapidly  down  the  road.  It  filled  the 
young  man  with  surprise  that  a  messenger,  who  had, 
judging  from  the  sound  of  his  horse's  feet,  ridden  in 
such  haste  to  the  Doctor's,  would  return  without  mak 
ing  known  his  errand. 

He  dressed  himself  hurriedly,  and  went  down  to  the 
gate  to  see  if  he  could  find  any  reason  for  this  mys 
terious  ride.  As  he  went  down  the  walk  something 
white  on  the  gate-post  attracted  his  attention,  and  go 
ing  to  it,  he  found  Mamie's  lace  handkerchief,  her  name 


Blighted  Hopes.  81 

written  in  the  small  linen  centre.  It  was  spotted  with 
bright  red  blood,  and  beside  it  lay  a  letter,  written  in 
her  girlish  hand,  literally  soaked  in  blood.  It  was  her 
last  letter  to  Lieutenant  Barclay,  written  the  week 
before. 

Laurie  picked  up  the  articles,  and  looked  at  them  as 
one  in  a  dream.  He  seemed  dazed  at  first,  but  as  the 
full  realization  burst  upon  him  he  exclaimed  huskily: 

"My  God !  has  someone  killed  the  poor  fellow  ?"  and 
he  trembled  violently  as  he  thought  of  his  cousin. 
What  to  do  he  knew  not,  and  yet  something  must  be 
done,  and  done  quickly.  Gathering  up  his  mental  fac 
ulties,  he  decided  that  the  first  thing  was  to  go  and  tell 
his  father  and  mother  of  his  gruesome  discovery,  and 
to  get  help  immediately  to  go  in  search  of  the  mur 
dered  man,  for  there  was  little  room  to  doubt  that  he 
had  been  murdered. 

He  went  indoors,  and,  waking  his  parents,  acquainted 
them  with  the  dreadful  suspicion  that  filled  his  mind 
as  he  laid  the  bloody  articles  before  them. 

The  usually  calm,  self-poised  physician  was  greatly 
agitated  as  he  inquired  excitedly : 

"Are  you  very  sure,  Laurie,  that  these  things  were 
in  Lieutenant  Barclay's  pocket  when  he  left  here?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  am  certain  the  handkerchief  was,  for  just 
after  he  left,  Mamie  mentioned  to  me  that  he  had 
begged  leave  to  take  it  with  him  as  an  amulet,  and  it 
is  natural  to  infer  that  he  also  carried  with  him  her 
last  letter.  I  cannot  bear  to  think,  father,  of  the  effect 
this  awful  tragedy  will  have  on  our  poor  little  Mamie/' 
Laurie  exclaimed  excitedly. 


82  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"I  cannot  understand  it,  for  I  do  not  think  the 
young  man  had  any  enemies,  nor  even  acquaintance  in 
this  part  of  the  country;  but  we  will  go  immediately 
and  search  for  him.  Perhaps  we  may  find  some  clue  to 
this  mysterious  affair. 

"Order  the  horses  quickly,  my  son,  and  we  will  get  off 
as  early  as  possible.  Meantime  be  careful  to  put  those 
dreadful  things  away,  Laurie,  where  Mamie  will  not 
see  them.  I  indeed  tremble  for  her  if  this  awful  deed 
has  been  done,  as  I  have  good  reason  to  fear  it  has." 
And  Laurie  took  the  blood-stained  things,  and  running 
quickly  to  his  room,  thrust  them  in  a  bureau  drawer.- 
He  then  went  on  to  the  horse  lot. 

They  left  just  at  sunrise,  before  any  of  the  family  had 
yet  arisen. 

They  found  no  difficulty  in  following  the  iron  shoe 
tracks  of  the  officer's  horse  for  fifteen  miles.  Here  the 
tracks  left  the  main  road,  and  went  out  to  a  spring  that 
bubbled  up  from  the  foot  of  a  hill  beside  the  road. 
Everyone  who  travels  this  dreary  road  stops  here  to 
drink  of  the  cool  water  which  ever  flows  from  the  spring. 
The  ground  is  heavily  turfed  with  beautiful  green 
grass,  on  which  the  horse's  hoof  made  no  indentation, 
except  where  he  occasionally  stepped  on  the  white  sand 
in  the  run  of  the  little  brook.  Here  they  found  abun 
dant  signs  of  foul  play  in  the  drops  of  blood  left  drying 
on  the  sand.  They  searched  everj'where  for  other  proof, 
but  found  nothing  but  a  brass  button,  evidently  fresh 
cut  from  a  fine  blue  coat,  for  a  small  portion  of  the 
goods  had  been  hastily  cut  off  with  the  button. 

There  was  not  a  track  showing  where  nor  in  what 


Blighted  Hopes.  83 

way  the  villains  got  away  with  their  prey.  The  Doctor 
and  Laurie  rode  through  the  scorching  July  sun  for 
hours,  in  every  direction  for  miles  around  the  "Yankee 
Spring,"  as  it  is  called  to  this  day,  but  no  evidence 
was  found  that  could  in  any  way  explain  the  mysterious 
disappearance  of  this  noble  Christian  soldier.  It  was 
as  if  he  had  been  snatched  from  the  earth  by  some  un 
seen  power. 

That  portion  of  Winn  Parish  is  an  unbroken  forest 
of  long-leaf  pines,  miles  and  miles  in  extent.  You 
ride  up  one  hill  and  down  to  a  valley,  each  so  much 
like  the  one  over  which  you  have  just  passed,  that  to 
the  casual  observer  they  might  be  just  the  same.  Over 
this  vast  wilderness  a  great  silence  reigns  unbroken, 
save  by  the  soughing  of  the  wind  through  the  lofty 
pine  tops. 

The  few  human  habitations  that  are  scattered  many 
miles  apart  are  not  on  the  road,  but  back  nearer  the 
numerous  bayous,  where  the  land  is  richer  and  the  hog 
range  is  better. 

Doctor  Montgomery  knew  where  every  farmer  in 
this  section  lived,  but  knew  that  there  was  no  use  in 
asking  information  from  the  settlers  who  were  either 
connected  by  ties  of  blood  or  marriage  with  the  des 
peradoes  who  infested  this  wild  and  lawless  parish. 

During  the  war  of  the  States,  there  were  men  who, 
to  escape  conscription,  lived  chiefly  in  the  woods,  and 
they  were  joined  by  deserters  and  criminals  of  their 
own  class.  They  grew  in  time  to  be  a  terror  to  their 
own  and  the  neighboring  parishes,  and  were  known 
under  the  name  of  "Jayhawkers."  They  lived  chiefly 


84  Under  the  Magnolias. 

on  game  and  produce,  taken  from  the  luckless  traveller, 
who,  if  he  was  suspected  of  having  money  or  valuables 
of  any  kind,  was  promptly  shot  with  a  Winchester  rifle, 
and  his  body  hidden  somewhere  out  of  sight.  There 
were  no  men  left  in  the  country,  so  these  robbers  were 
left  to  rob  and  murder  with  impunity  for  even  several 
years  after  the  close  of  the  civil  war.  They  were  still 
flourishing  at  the  time*  of  which  I  write,  though  re 
peated  efforts  had  been  made  to  rid  the  country  of  them. 

Of  what  avail  is  the  greatest  bravery  against  a  hid 
den  foe;  against  the  coward  who  stands  behind  a  tree 
with  his  rifle  and  kills  his  victim  ere  he  is  aware  of  the 
presence  of  an  enemy?  Often  women  and  children 
shared  the  fate  of  their  protectors. 

This  state  of  things  lasted  only  a  short  time  after 
the  murder  of  Lieutenant  Barclay,  and  that  was  the 
last  murder  committed  by  them  of  which  the  public 
knew. 

It  was  nearly  sundown  when  Doctor  Montgomery 
and  his  son  turned  their  faces  homeward.  They  were 
too  weary  and  disheartened  for  conversation.  At 
length  the  Doctor  remarked,  as  if  following  out  a  train 
of  thought : 

"Laurie,  I  think  that  you  had  better  go  to  Natchi- 
toches  to-morrow,  and  report  to  General  McLaughlin 
our  fears  regarding  his  first  lieutenant. 

"I  cannot  but  entertain  a  lingering  hope  that  he  es 
caped  those  brutes  and  returned  by  a  nearer  route  to 
his  station;  if  it  is  true  you  will  find  him  there.  If 
we  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  hear  nothing  more  of  the 
poor  fellow,  we  will,  of  course,  have  to  tell  our  poor  lit- 


Blighted  Hopes.  85 

tie  girl  all  we  know  of  the  awful  story,  and  I  am  very 
much  afraid  her  heart  will  break  this  time.  My  pool 
little  darling!"  and  Doctor  Montgomery  groaned.  He 
rarely  expressed  so  much  emotion,  and  Laurie,  who  had 
never  before  seen  his  father  so  much  moved  was  deeply 
impressed  by  his  grief.  It  added  no  little  to  his  al 
ready  overwrought  feelings. 

It  was  late  when  they  reached  home,  but  Mamie  and 
her  aunt  were  still  up,  waiting'  anxiously  for  their  re 
turn.  Mamie  knew  nothing  of  the  object  for  which  her 
uncle  and  cousin  had  set  out  in  the  morning,  but  she 
was  looking  for  her  lover.  She  had  expected  that  he 
would  arrive  about  dark,  and  as  the  hours  passed  and 
he  did  not  come,  she  grew  nervous  and  uneasy.  As  her 
aunt  suggested  the  idea  to  her  that  perhaps  they  might 
all  return  together,  she  joined  in  her  lonely  sad  watch. 

It  was  aften  ten  o'clock  when  Doctor  Montgomery  and 
Laurie  reached  home,  and  after  their  arrival  Mamie 
gave  up  all  hope  of  Lieutenant  Barclay's  return  for 
that  evening.  She  was  full  of  surmises  as  to  what 
could  have  kept  him  away,  as  he  had  said  positively 
that  he  would  return  that  evening,  and  he  was,  she 
knew,  strictly  punctual  to  his  appointments.  It  was 
pitiful  to  see  her  efforts  to  appear  unconcerned  and 
hopeful. 

The  Doctor  now  insisted  on  their  going  to  bed  and 
to  sleep. 

"Laurie  is  going  to  Natchitoches  to-morrow,  Birdie," 
as  Mamie  came  for  her  good-night  kiss,  "and  I  hope 
he  will  find  your  hero  all  safe  and  sound,  having  been 
forced,  by  necessity,  to  return  by  a  nearer  route  to 


86  Under  the  Magnolias. 

camp.  Duty,  you  know,  dearie,  is  a  stern  master.  In 
that  case  Laurie  will  bring  you  back  a  nice  billet-doux 
to  reward  you  for  patient  waiting;  so  go  to  sleep,  and 
get  the  roses  back  into  those  pale  cheeks  before  the  gal 
lant  soldier  comes  again,"  and  the  Doctor  playfully 
pinched  the  dimpled  chin. 

Mamie  was  somewhat  reassured  by  his  cheering 
words,  as  she  came  by  to  bid  Laurie  adieu  for  the  night. 
He  kept  liis  face  sedulously  in  shadow,  as  he  felt  that 
he  could  not  get  up  a  smile  if  his  life  depended  on  it. 

"Laurie,  why  is  it  that  I  have  not  heard  a  single 
suggestion  from  you  as  to  the  probable  cause  of  the 
non-arrival  of  Lieutenant  Barclay?"  she  questioned,  a 
little  anxiously. 

"Oh,  sweet,  don't  bother  a  sleepy  fellow  with  such 
abstruse  questions."  And  she  went  upstairs  for  the 
night. 

"An  hour  later  her  aunt  stepped  softly  to  her  door 
to  learn,  if  possible,  if  she  were  asleep;  she  semed  sat 
isfied,  for  she  returned  to  her  husband  to  say  that  she 
thought  Mamie  was  sleeping  nicely. 

Laurie  was  so  tired  that,  notwithstanding  his  excite 
ment  and  anxiety,  he  fell  asleep  almost  immediately 
on  going  to  bed.  Very  early  next  morning  he  was  on 
his  way  to  NYtchitoches. 

As  soon  as  he  arrived  in  the  city  he  reported  to  the 
General,  and  made  inquiries  for  the  Lieutenant,  but 
found  that  he  had  not  been  heard  from.  It  was  just 
as  he  had  expected,  he  did  not  have  a  shadow  of  hope 
when  he  started  from  home. 

The  General  was  shocked  and  surprised  when  Laurie 


Blighted  Hopes.  87 

told  him  what  he  feared  regarding  the  missing  officer. 
Laurie  also  told  him  of  the  relations  existing  between 
his  cousin  and  Lieutenant  Barclay.  He  told  the  com 
manding  officer  all  he  knew  of  the  country  in  which  the 
murder  had  been  committed ;  the  dreary  forests ;  the  im 
penetrable  swamps,  in  which  the  banditti  could  secrete 
themselves  without  fear  of  discovery. 

Laurie  concluded  his  share  in  the  interview  by  de 
claring  to  him  his  sworn  vow  to  be  avenged  for  the  mur 
der  of  his  cousin's  lover  if  it  took  the  whole  of  his  life 
to  accomplish  it. 

He  was  standing  with  pale  and  excited  face  before 
General  McLaughlin,  who  now  rose,  and  laying  his 
hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder,  exclaimed  in  a  husky 
voice : 

"Noble  boy !  I  trust  that  God  will  aid  you  in  meting 
out  justice  to  the  cowardly  villain  who  would  dare  lay 
his  hands  on  a  noble  man  like  Howard  Barclay.  A 
nobler  man  God  Almighty  never  made.  He  was  a 
friend  whom  I  shall  sorely  miss." 

In  a  short  time  a  searching  party  went  down  into 
Winn  Parish,  and  General  McLaughlin  himself  was 
one  of  the  party.  During  the  unsuccessful  search  for 
the  missing  officer,  the  General  met  one  of  the  gang, 
and  in  the  encounter  which  ensued  he  killed  the  rob 
ber,  and  putting  him  on  his  horse,  he  carried  him  to 
the  nearest  house,  which,  fortunately,  was  near  by,  and 
laid  him  in  the  yard,  and  rejoined  his  men. 

Not  many  weeks  after  this  the  Union  soldiers  in 
North  Louisiana  were  ordered  to  the  Texas  frontier, 


88  Under  the  Magnolias. 

and  the  dreadful  murder  of  Lieutenant  Barclay  passed 
out  of  the  public  mind. 

When  Laurie  reached  home  it  was  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  He  had  purposely  chosen  to  return  in 
the.  night  that  he  might  not  have  to  meet  Mamie.  He 
knew  that  if  he  waited  until  the  morrow  for  his  return, 
that  she  would  be  waiting  for  him,  and  meeting  her  he 
now  dreaded  above  everything  else.  He  wished  to  con 
fer  with  his  father  and  mother  as  to  the  best  method  of 
breaking  the  awful  tidings  to  his  poor  cousin. 

He  rode  around  the  back  way;  put  up  his  horse,  and 
slipping  into  his  parents'  room,  told  them  that  he  had 
been  unsuccessful  in  hearing  anything  of  the  lost  man. 

"Then  we  are  forced  to  the  belief  that  he  has  been 
foully  murdered — hard  as  it  is  to  believe,  that  an  hon 
orable,  good  man  has  been  killed  in  broad  daylight,  and 
for  no  cause !"  exclaimed  the  Doctor,  in  a  tone  that  be 
trayed  the  deepest  emotion. 

"General  McLaughlin  will  do  everything  in  his  power 
to  discover  the  murderers,  and,  if  possible,  bring  them 
to  justice ;  but  we  know  how  almost  impossible  that  will 
be,"  said  Laurie,  in  a  low  tone.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
it  must  be  kept  from  Mamie  in  some  way.  He  felt 
afraid  that  she  would  overhear  him,  if  he  spoke  aloud, 
though  her  room  was  upstairs  and  not  directly  above 
the  one  in  which  they  were. 

"Where  did  you  put  that  handkerchief  and  letter, 
Laurie,  before  you  left  home  yesterday?"  his  mother 
asked. 

"I  put  th"em  in  the  top  drawer  of  my  bureau,  mother, 
"but  why  do  you  ask  ?" 


Blighted  Hopes.  89 

"I  just  wanted  to  be  sure  they  were  out  of  darling 
Mamie's  reach/'  she  answered,  wearily. 

"You  had  best  go  to  bed,  dear  boy,  you  seem  almost 
exhausted,"  his  mother  gently  suggested. 

"If  I  do  I  fear  I  cannot  sleep.  I  shall  be  thinking 
of  dear  Mamie,  and  of  what  the  morning  holds  in  store 
for  her.  Mother,  I  am  afraid  this  will  kill  her.  She 
is  so  sensitive,  and  she  has  spent  the  last  forces  of  her 
heart  on  this  love  of  her  earnest  womanhood,"  Laurie 
replied  mournfully. 

"Mamie  is  a  Christian,  and  a  very  spiritual  one.  We 
can  only  pray  that  God  will  enable  her  to  bear  this  trial 
as  she  bore  the  first  great  grief  of  her  life.  I  will  tell 
her  in  the  morning  myself.  It  is  a  hard  task  to  per 
form,  that  of  breaking  such  awful  news  to  her  loving 
heart.  She  is  already  very  nervous,  and,  I  think,  sus 
pects  something  more  than  mere  business  took  you  to 
town." 

"But  go  to  bed  now,  and  you  will  rest  if  you  do  not 
sleep,  dear  child."  He  did  indeed  look  haggard  and 
woe-begone  as  he  left  the  room. 

Doctor  Montgomery  sat  in  mournful  stillness.  He 
did  not  know  what  to  do,  and  seemed  overcome  with 
grief  and  dismay. 

When  Mamie  went  to  her  room  that  night  she  did  not 
immediately  go  to  bed,  but  sat  by  the  open  window 
overlooking  the  flower  garden  below. 

The  heavy  fragrance  of  the  gardenias  and  grandduke 
jasmines  floated  up  to  her  window,  and,  accustomed  as 
she  was  to  them,  made  her  feel  faint  and  sick.  She 
knew  not  why,  they  had  never  done  so  before  in  her 


go  Under  the  Magnolias. 

life.  After  sitting  thus  for  an  hour  she  arose  and  be 
gan,  wearily,  to  undress  herself.  She  wished  now,  in 
a  vague  sort  of  way,  that  she  had  Kivannah,  her  maid, 
back  again,  as  in  the  olden  time,  to  do  for  her  what  she 
felt  unable  to  do  for  herself.  It  was  not  often  that  she 
had  given  a  thought  or  regret  to  the  luxuries  of  the 
past. 

She  fell  into  an  uneasy  slumber  that  lasted  for  sev 
eral  hours,  and  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  horse's 
feet  in  the  lane  near  the  house.  She  was  excited  in  a 
moment,  and  listened  nervously  to  ascertain  where  the 
horse  and  rider  went.  She  opened  her  door,  and  pass 
ing  through  the  hall  and  unoccupied  room  beyond,  she 
looked  toward  the  lot  and  stables.  In  the  bright  moon 
light  she  recognized  Laurie  as  he  rode  up  to  the  gate 
and  dismounted.  She  then  went  slowly  and  softly 
downstairs  to  await  his  coming.  She  went  to  the  door 
of  her  aunt's  room,  but  some  unaccountable  power  held 
her  back  until  Laurie  came  in  the  back  way  and  an 
nounced  his  failure  to  hear  anything  of  her  lover. 

She  felt  powerless  to  move,  and  heard  the  whole  con 
versation  about  herself  and  her  unfortunate  lover. 
After  Laurie  mentioned  the  things  in  his  drawer  she 
slowly  dragged  herself  upstairs  to  his  room,  and  un 
locking  the  drawer,  found  the  bloody  handkerchief  and 
letter.  She  took  them  out,  and  going  to  her  room,  she 
seated  herself  on  the  side  of  her  bed. 

She  had  left  her  lamp  burning,  not  thinking  that 
she  could  sleep,  when  she  had  laid  down  at  twelve 
o'clock.  As  she  gazed  at  the  bloody  objects  she  realized 
that  it  was  the  lifeblood  of  the  man  she  loved  that  gave 


Blighted  Hopes.  91 

them  that  crimson  hue.  As  she  sat  for  hours  looking 
at  these  dread  evidences  of  her  lover's  fate,  reason 
seemed  to  bend'  and  give  way  before  the  awful  knowl 
edge. 

At  seven  o'clock  her  aunt  went  to  her  room,  and 
found  her  still  sitting  there  in  her  nightgown,  with 
her  long  hair  falling  over  her  shoulders,  a  mass  of  rip 
pling  gold.  The  brown  eyes,  usually  so  soft  and  lus 
trous,  were  fixed  with  a  strained  look  on  the  dreadful 
objects  held  tightly  in  her  hand. 

"Mamie,  my  love,"  her  aunt  addressed  her,  gently, 
but  she  did  not  answer.  She  then  endeavored  to  take 
the  handkerchief  and  letter  from  her  tight  clasp,  but 
she  clung  to  them,  and  resisted  every  effort  her  aunt 
made  to  induce  her  to  lie  down. 

In  great  fright,  she  hurried  to  Laurie's  room,  and 
wakened  him  to  go  for  his  father,  telling  him  of  his 
cousin's  condition  and  of  her  dreadful  fears  regarding 
her. 

After  her  uncle  had  given  her  a  soothing  potion 
they  succeeded  in  getting  her  to  bed,  and  in  disengag 
ing  the  stained  handkerchief  and  letter  from  her  hands. 

A  slow  fever  set  in  and  complete  nervous  prostration. 
For  weeks  her  life  trembled  in  the  scale — and  who 
could  pray  for  the  restoration  to  health  of  one  for  whom 
life  held  only  dark  shadows  ? 

The  God  whom  she  loved,  in  gracious  mercy,  placed 
the  weight  of  decision  on  the  side  of  heaven  and  im 
mortal  bliss  beyond  the  scenes  of  time — and  the  end 
drew  near. 

As  the  lovely  woman  neared  the  hour  of  transition, 


92  Under  the  Magnolias. 

the  light  of  Eeason  enthroned,  shone  once  more  from 
the  clear,  beautiful  eyes. 

She  called  Laurie  to  her  bedside,  and  in  a  vo;ce  gen 
tle,  yet  solemn  in  its  pathos,  she  said  earnestly,  as  she 
held  his  hand  in  hers,  as  cold  and  waxen  now  as  lily- 
cups. 

"Laurie,  I  know  you  so  well  that  I  feel  certain  that 
you  will  want  to  seek  revenge  for  the  murder  of  the 
noble  man  who  was  so  much  to  me  that  I  cannot  live 
longer  in  this  world  without  him,  but  you  must  prom 
ise  me,  ere  I  go,  that  you  will  renounce  that  plan  of 
revenge.  For  my  sake  you  will  give  me  your  word, 
darling  boy,  that  you  will  leave  vengeance  to  Him  to 
whom  it  belongeth.  Tell  me.  Quick,  Laurie,  for  time 
is  fleeting."  And  the  sweet  eyes  looked  eagerly  into 
those  of  her  cousin. 

Laurie  gave  the  required  promise,  while  his  face 
grew  colorless  with  emotion. 

Then  with  tender  love  she  bade  farewell  to  the  loved 
ones  who  stood  weeping  by  her  bed;  and  as  calmly  as 
the  stars  go  down,  she  sank  to  rest.  Closing  her  eyes 
to  earth,  she  opened  them  on  a  scene  of  glory  which 
human  "eye  hath  not  seen  nor  hath  it  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man  to  conceive." 


The  Magnolias.  93 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

THE    MAGNOLIAS. 

"What  though  no  rule  of  courtly  grace, 
To  measured  mood  had  trained  her  pace, — 
A  foot  more  light,  a  step  more  true, 
Ne'er  from  the  heath-flower  dashed  the  dew; 
E'eu  the  slight  hare-bell  raised  its  head, 
Elastic  from  her  airy  tread."— ''Lady  of  the  Lake." 

MARION"  and  Fannie  Montgomery  were  of  exactly  op 
posite  types.  Marion,  the  elder,  was  tall  and  as  slen 
derly  graceful  as  the  swaying  willows  down  on  the 
brooks  of  her  father's  plantation.  The  oval  face  was 
set  off  hy  a  pair  of  dark,  velvety  eyes,  with  delicately 
pencilled  brows,  and  hair  of  a  blue-black  shade. 

Fannie  was  short  and  plump,  and  as  fair  as  a  sea- 
shell.  Her  hair  was  of  that  peculiar  shade  that  is 
neither  red  nor  yellow,  but  a  blending  of  the  two.  The 
negroes  called  it  "molasses  candy  hair."  Whatever  the 
shade,  it  was  certainly  beautiful,  and  curled  in  natural 
rings  about  the  low,  broad  forehead.  Her  eyes  were 
like  the  skies  of  her  own  sunny  State,  and  if  her  mouth 
was  a  trifle  too  large  for  beauty's  perfect  lines,  it  pos 
sessed  a  rare  capacity  for  sweetest  smiles,  and  gayest, 
musical  laughter. 


94  Under  the  Magnolias. 

While  the  sisters  were  so  unlike  in  appearance,  they 
were  equally  unlike  in  disposition.  Marion  was  reserved 
and  dignified  in  manner  to  such  an  extent  that  she 
seemed  cold  and  unloving  to  those  who  did  not  know  her 
well. 

Fannie  was  so  full  of  life  that  she  could  not  remain 
quiet  for  two  consecutive  minutes.  She  was  a  fine, 
graceful  rider;  could  manage  a  horse  to  perfection,  and 
nothing  afforded  her  so  much  pleasure  as  to  mount  a 
spirited  horse  and  gallop  over  the  hills.  She  was  fear 
less,  and  often  rode  alone  to  the  post-office  and  the 
neighboring  plantations,  generally  several  miles  distant 
from  the  Magnolias.  There  was  no  danger,  she  as 
serted,  as  Gypsy,  her  pet  pony,  could  outrun  any  ordi 
nary  horse,  and  was  kept  in  practice  taking  the  logs 
and  ditches  in  the  route. 

The  sisters  were  very  fond  of  each  other,  and  as  for 
Laurie,  they  fairly  idolized  him.  To  them  he  was  the 
ideal  of  all  that  was  noble  and  good  in  young  manhood. 
He  teased  them  unmercifully  at  times,  yet  they  were 
always  forgiving  and  forgetting  such  trifles  as  that. 

He  had  never  had  any  experience  of  a  real  love  af 
fair,  though  chivalrously  fond  of  the  fair  sex,  as  men; 
generally  are,  who  have  been  reared  with  sisters  whom 
they  have  been  taught  to  love  and  cherish. 

After  his  graduation  from  medical  college,  he  wished 
to  locate  in  the  city  with  his  uncle,  but  at  his  father's 
earnest  desire,  he  gave  up  that  cherished  scheme  and 
entered  into  partnership  with  him  in  his  laborious 
country  practice.  He  found  ample  compensation  for 
the  sacrifice  he  had  made,  in  the  evident  pleasure  and 


The  Magnolias.  95 

assistance  which  his  companionship  afforded  his  father, 
now  beginning  to  bend  considerably  under  the  weight 
of  years  and  accumulated  trials. 

Marion  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  Captain  Sin 
gleton,  a  brilliant  young  lawyer  of  Mississippi.  She 
had  met  him  while  on  a  visit  to  her  mother's  relatives 
in  that  State,  about  a  year  before. 

Captain  Singleton  was  a  confirmed  old  bachelor,  and 
therefore  it  was  with  surprise  that  everyone  learned  of 
his  engagement  to  Miss  Montgomery,  of  Louisiana. 

He  entered  the  Confederate  service,  just  after  his 
graduation  from  Harvard  University,  and  fought 
through  the  whole  four  years  of  that  direful  struggle. 
He  rose  steadily  in  promotion  until  he  attained  the 
rank  of  Captain,  when  in  one  of  the  last  battles  of  the 
war  he  lost  an  arm. 

After  the  war  was  over  he  returned  home,  to  find 
their  once  fair  home  in  ruins — their  rich  river  planta 
tion  completely  devastated  by  marching  armies.  The 
dwelling  and  cabins  were  burned,  levees  destroyed,  and 
nothing,  absolutely  nothing  left  but  the  land,  and  that 
groaning  beneath  a  burden  of  taxation  that  rendered  it 
almost  worthless. 

With  a  courage  greater  than  that  required  to  storm 
a  fort,  or  capture  a  battery — for,  indeed,  in  these  things 
he  had  always  led  his  men  foremost  in  the  fray — he 
went  energetically  to  work  in  the  practice  of  his  pro 
fession  amid  such  a  wreck  of  former  conditions  as 
would  puzzle  the  wisest  brain. 

He  assisted  his  father  in  renovating  his  wasted  es 
tate,  and  in  educating  the  younger  children.  His  per- 


96  Under  the  Magnolias. 

severance  and  energy  won  success,  and  we  find  him  an 
honored  judge,  respected  and  beloved  by  all  who  knew 
him. 

One  evening,  shortly  after  Mr.  Melton's  first  visit 
to  the  Magnolias,  as  the  family  were  sitting  on  the  star- 
lighted  gallery,  Fannie  asked  her  mother  abruptly: 

"Mamma,  how  do  you  like  Mr.  Melton?  I  have  just 
been  thinking  of  it,  and  I  can't  remember  having  heard 
you  express  an  opinion  of  him  since  you  met  him." 

"I  am  very  much  pleased  with  him,  dear.  He  is  a 
very  quiet,  gentlemanly  kind  of  man,  and,  I  think,  will 
make  an  excellent  neighbor,"  replied  her  mother. 

"His  daughter  is  highly  cultured,  Mrs.  Bliss  says," 
remarked  Fannie. 

"Oh,  she  was  educated  at  the  'Hub,'  you  know,"  put 
in  Marion,  rather  sneeringly. 

"Then,  Mai,  you  will  have  someone  to  practice  duets 
with  you,  for  they  say  she  is  a  fine  musician,"  Fannie 
added. 

"And  Fannie  will  have  someone  to  ride  with  her. 
Won't  you,  Comanche?"  said  Laurie,  teasingly,  as  he 
pulled  one  of  Fannie's  bright  curls. 

"And  you  will  have  a  Yankee  girl  to  fall  in  love 
with,"  replied  the  sister,  who  never  lacked  for  quick 
repartee. 

"Well,  suppose  we  go  and  practice  that  new  song 
again,  so  as  to  be  ready  to  display  our  vocal  attain 
ments  to  this  feminine  prodigy  of  New  England,"  said 
Laurie,  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  parlor. 

Some  weeks  afterward,  as  Marion  was  sitting  in  her 
room  at  a  western  window  watching  the  sunset  flush 


The  Magnolias.  97 

fade  into  the  quiet  gray  of  twilight,  she  heard  quick 
footsteps  on  the  stairway,  and  soon  her  door  was  uncer 
emoniously  pushed  open  and  Fannie  rushed  in.  Her 
cheeks  were  flushed  with  excitement,  and  her  eyes 
were  shining  like  stars. 

"Oh,  Marion !  the  Yankees  have  come — the  Meltons,  I 
mean.  Jim  has  just  got  in  from  Campte,  and  says  he 
brought  them  up  in  our  wagons.  When  shall  we  go  to 
see  them?  this  week  won't  do,  of  course;  but  next  week 
will,  and  I  am  going  if  I  have  to  mount  Gyp  and  go 
by  myself,"  she  said  decidedly. 

"I  suppose  Laurie  and  I  will  be  willing  to  accompany 
you  by  that  time,"  said  Marion,  quietly,  "so  don't  be 
in  such  a  rush,  please,  Baby,"  as  closing  her  book  she 
followed  her  impetuous  sister  down  the  stairs. 

"How  I  do  wish  there  was  an  Edward  as  well  as  an 
Evelyn — a  graduate  of  Yale  or  Harvard.  Wouldn't 
that  make  it  ever  so  much  more  interesting,  Mai?" 
Fannie  ventured  to  say,  as  she  lightly  flung  herself  on 
the  balusters  and  slid  down  to  the  hall. 

"Fan,  I  declare  you  are  the  most  candid  girl  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life.  If  I  did  think  so  much  of  the  masculine 
sex,  I  would  not  admit  it  even  to  myself,"  replied  the 
elder  sister,  with  dignity. 

"I  am  sure  I  would  much  prefer  it  to  be  as  it  is,  or 
if  there  was  an  Edward  we  would  be  certain  to  have  a 
great  case  on  hand  immediately,  and  somebody's  little 
warm  heart  get  broken  before  it  was  done  with,"  and , 
Marion  smiled  mischievously  at  her  younger  sister. 

"It  is  very  singular  that  you  are  so  agreeable  to  Cap 
tain  Singleton,  and  yet  speak  so  slightingly  of  the  at- 


98  Under  the   Magnolias. 

tractiveness  of  mankind  in  general/'  said  Fannie,  as 
she  saw  with  pleasure  the  blood  rise  to  Marion's  tem 
ples,  as  it  always  did,  whenever  the  name  of  the  gallant 
Confederate  officer  was  mentioned  in  her  presence. 

Fannie  went  on  to  her  mother's  room  to  impart  to  her 
the  important  news  she  had  learned  from  Jim. 

"I  guess  they  went  directly  to  Mrs.  Bliss's.  Did  Jim 
say,  Fannie  ?"  asked  her  mother. 

"Yes'em,  and  Jim  says  they  are  going  to  move  over 
to  their  home  next  Monday,  so  by  next  Thursday  we 
may  call  to  see  them;  don't  you  think  so,  mother?" 
she  asked,  anxiously. 

"Yes,  I  think  you  may  call  by  that  time.  It  does 
not  take  long  for  energetic,  willing  hands  to  right  up 
a  house,  especially  such  a  small  one  as  theirs,"  replied 
her  mother.  Then  she  added,  sympathetically: 

"Poor  things,  how  changed  everything  will  be,  and 
how  lonely  for  a  long  time  they  will  feel  in  a  land  of 
strangers.  We  must  be  kind  to  them,  and  endeavor  to 
make  them  forget,  as  far  as  possible,  their  lost  home 
and  friends.  It  must  be  a  great  comfort  to  have  their 
old  friend  and  neighbor  to  welcome  them  to  their  new 
home." 

"I  think  the  Meltons  are  a  good  deal  above  the  Bliss 
family  in  education  and  social  standing,"  remarked 
Marion. 

"Mother,  if  father  can  spare  Monk,  don't  you  think 
it  will  be  a  good  idea  to  send  him  over  there  on  Monday 
to  help  them,"  asked  Fannie,  who  was  always  quick  to 
enter  into  the  spirit  of  her  mother's  benevolent  schemes. 

"Yes,  I  think  it  a  very  nice  plan  of  yours,  and  one  I 


The  Magnolias.  99 

know  your  father  will  heartily  indorse/'  her  mother  re 
plied. 

"I  am  so  anxious  to  see  that  Evelyn,  I  cannot  wait 
very  patiently  until  next  Thursday,"  said  Fannie. 

"My  darling  baby  girl,  you  must  cultivate  a  more 
patient  and  quiet  manner.  You  really  distress  me  by 
your  impatience  and  impetuosity,"  her  mother  replied, 
fondly,  as  she  smoothed  back  the  shining  hair  from 
Fannie's  temples.  Then  she  added: 

"I  will  tell  you  how  you  may  employ  some  of  the 
energy  you  are  letting  run  to  waste  in  impatience. 
Hoard  it  all  up  until  next  Saturday,  then  cook  some 
of  those  nice  light  rolls  and  strawberry  jam  puffs  that 
you  make  so  nicely,  and  send  them  over  to  our  new 
neighbors  on  Monday  morning.  As  they  will  not  have 
much  time  for  cooking  on  that  day,  such  things  will 
come  in  very  nicely.  We  can  add  a  dish  of  butter  also. 
I  think  I  heard  your  father  say  that  he  had  offered  Mr. 
Melton  the  use  of  some  cows  until  he  buys  cattle  of  his 
own,"  and  Mrs.  Montgomery  rose  and  went  into  the 
dining-room,  where  supper  was  already  spread. 

In  a  few  moments  they  were  all  assembled  at  the 
evening  meal,  and  the  arrival  of  their  new  neighbors 
was  the  chief  topic  of  conversation. 

"Jim  volunteered  his  opinion  of  our  new  neighbors 
to  me  to-day  when  he  delivered  Mr.  Melton's  message 
of  thanks,"  observed  the  elder  Doctor,  "and  that  is,  he 
thinks  them  very  nice  ladies.  Now  I  think  Jim's  opin 
ion  on  such  matters  worth  a  good  deal,  though  I  did  not 
tell  him  so." 

"If  they  were  Southern  people,  I  would  be  willing 


ioo  Under  the  Magnolias. 

to  bank  a  great  deal  on  Jim  as  authority  in  such  mat 
ters,  but  I  won't  know  whether  he  is  so  discriminating 
as  to  Northern  'quality'  and  fpo'  buckra/ "  laughed 
LaiHe. 

"Well,  the  girl  must  be  good  and  beautiful,  for  Jim 
says  she  is  like  me  and  looks  like  me,"  Fannie  re 
marked,  with  an  affectation  of  demureness  that  was 
quite  foreign  to  her. 


The  Refuge.  101 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  REFUGE. 

"Who  ever  loved,  that  loved  not  at  first  sight?" 

—"As  You  Like  It." 

TIME  passed  swiftly,  and  Monday  morning  came,  fair 
and  cooler  than  it  was  the  day  before,  which  had  threat 
ened  rain  so  much  that  the  Meltons  did  not  visit,  as 
they  had  planned  to  do;  the  new  clearing  in  the  wilder 
ness. 

On  this  morning  "The  Refuge"  presented  a  busy 
scene,  the  object  being  to  get  the  place  habitable  before 
night,  Mrs.  Bliss,  Mrs.  Melton,  Evelyn  and  "Aunt 
Judy,"  the  wife  of  "Uncle  July,"  kept  busy,  dusting, 
unpacking,  sweeping,  and  setting  things  to  rights  gen 
erally.  The  men  were  occupied  with  putting  up  bed 
steads,  making  shelves,  putting  up  the  stove  in  the  tiny 
kitchen,  and  making  substitutes  for  furniture. 

At  nine  o'clock  Monk,  the  Doctor's  boy,  came  over 
with  a  basket  and  a  note  from  his  mistress,  saying  that 
if  he  could  be  of  any  service  to  them,  she  would  be 
pleased  if  they  would  keep  him  until  they  were  through 
the  day's  work.  The  basket  contained  the  dainty  jam- 
puffs  and  light  rolls  of  Fannie's  manufacture,  and  a 
large  dish  of  beautiful  yellow  butter. 


IO2  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Their  neighbors  had  all  been  very  kind  in  sending 
in  something  to  assist  in  fitting  up  the  place.  A  good 
deal  had  been  sent  in  the  way  of  cooked  food,  milk  or 
butter.  One  old  lady  had  sent  them  a  pair  of  chickens, 
saying  that,  "the  poor  things  won't  know  how  to  get  up 
in  the  morning  if  they  don't  have  a  rooster  to  crow  for 
them." 

As  Mrs.  Bliss  and  Evelyn  stood  for  a  moment  on  the 
porch,  the  latter  said: 

"This  sunny  little  porch  I  shall  wreathe  with  roses 
and  honeysuckles,  as  yours  is,  '.  Mrs.  Bliss/'  and  the 
vivid  imagination  ran  ahead  of  the  present  two  or 
three  years,  and  saw  the  fragrant  clusters  of  crimson 
and  white  roses  hanging  in  beauty  over  the  porch. 

"Yes,  flowers  grow  so  fast  in  a  new-ground  garden, 
but  it  will  be  some  time  before  roses  will  climb  so  high  as 
this;  better  plant  morning  glories  and  white  and  red 
Indian  creepers  while  you  are  waiting  on  the  roses. 
But,  Evelyn,  we  must  go  and  get  your  little  room  ready 
to  sleep  in  to-night.  You  will  be  tired  enough  to 
sleep  well  by  then,  I  think."  And  that  busy  woman 
went,  followed  by  Evelyn,  into  the  shed  room  that 
opened  from  the  large  front  room  that  was  to  be  her 
mother's.  The  large  room  across  the  hallway  was  to  be 
both  parlor  and  spare  room.  A  pretty  matting  covered 
the  rough  floor,  and  bright  shades  hung  before  the  win 
dows,  pictures  and  prints  hid  the  unceiled  walls.  Every 
thing  about  the  little  cottage  was  rough  and  primitive, 
but  hope  and  love  covered  many  deficiencies. 

In  Evelyn's  room  also  a  great  transformation  was 
going  on.  A  large  drygoods  box,  surmounted  by  a  mir- 


The  Refuge.  103 

ror  and  covered  with  a  bright  chintz,  formed  a  substi 
tute  for  a  dresser.  On  it  were  placed  many  pretty  or 
naments,  gifts  from  friends  of  bygone  days.  Evelyn 
handled  them  lovingly  as  she  placed  them  there.  A 
little  three-cornered  shelf  served  as  a  washstand,  and 
the  bed  was  draped  in  white  to  match  the  curtains  at 
the  windows.  A  bright  rug  on  the  floor  completed  the 
furnishings  of  this  simple  apartment.  Evelyn  sur 
veyed  the  fresh  looking  little  room  with  great  satisfac 
tion,  as  she  exclaimed : 

"It  does  look  very  neat,  don't  you  think,  Mrs.  Bliss? 
But,  oh,  I  wonder  what  Marguerite  would  say  if  she 
could  look  into  such  a  rough  little  room  and  know  it 
was  mine,"  and  a  far-away  look  came  into  her  dark 
eyes  as  she  reverted  in  memory  to  the  home  she  had 
left,  that  was  positively  elegant  compared  to  this. 

"But  I  will  not  think  of  such  things.  I  am  very 
happy,  and  grateful  to  God,  and  to  everyone  for  the 
kindness  which  has  been  shown  to  us  since  we  have  been 
down  here,"  she  said,  looking  brightly  at  the  kind- 
hearted  friend  who  stood  regarding  her  with  sympa 
thetic  eyes. 

"Well,  Evelyn,  let's  go  and  see  what  the  rest  of  'em 
have  been  doing  in  the  kitchen,"  and  when  we  get  that 
all  fixed  up,  I'll  go  on  home  and  see  after  my  little 
flock  for  the  night,"  said  Mrs.  Bliss,  as  she  led  the  way 
to  the  small  room  that  was  now  to  serve  both  as 
kitchen  and  dining-room. 

Mr.  Melton  was  already  planning  that  when  his  crop 
was  laid  by  in  the  summer  he  would  build  them  a  nice 
large  dining-room. 


iO4  Under  the  Magnolias. 

When  Mrs.  Bliss  and  Evelyn  reached  the  kitchen 
they  found  everybody  as  busy  as  bees  in  a  field  of 
clover.  The  stove  had  been  put  up  and  the  table  set 
ready  for  the  evening  meal.  The  unused  dishes  had 
been  washed  and  put  away  in  a  cupboard  constructed 
from  a  drygoods  box,  and  the  groceries  had  been  trans 
ferred  to  a  little  closet  built  in  the  wall  of  the  kitchen. 

Mrs.  Bliss  took  a  seat  in  one  of  the  splint-bottomed 
chairs,  which  she  had  brought  over  with  a  good  many 
others  as  a  contribution  to  the  housekeeping  department. 
She  watched  with  satisfaction  the  progress  that  was 
being  made  in  the  kitchen. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  resting,"  said  Evelyn,  "far  I 
think  it  is  the  first  time  you  have  sat  down  to-day,  Mrs. 
Bliss." 

"Oh,  no;  I've  sat  down  several  times  to  nurse  the 
baby,"  she  replied. 

Mrs.  Melton  seemed  suddenly  to  have  resumed  all 
of  her  lost  energy,  and  Evelyn  was  rendered  doubly 
happy  by  the  pleasant  and  cheerful  expression  on  her 
parents'  faces. 

Aunt  Judy  was  looking  very  sorrowful,  and  exclaimed : 

"I'm  sho'  ready  ter  drop  in  my  tracks,  fur  Mis'  Mel 
ton  has  kep'  me  runnin'  all  day  so  fas'  tel'  I  couldn't 
reford  ter  eat  my  dinner  wid  no  satisfaction  ter  my- 
sel',"  so  they  dismissed  her  at  sunset  and  she  sat  down 
to  rest  before  starting  home. 

"Our  neighbors  have  been  so  kind  and  thoughtful 
of  us  in  sending  cooked  food,  that  there  is  quite  enough 
left  from  dinner  to  make  a  nice  supper,  so  I  will  make 
the  tea,  mother,  and  let  you  rest,"  said  Evelyn. 


The  Refuge.  105 

Mrs.  Bliss  was  now  ready  to  leave  for  home  as  a 
wagon  came  rattling  up  to  the  door  for  her,  and  they 
all  repaired  to  the  front  porch  to  bid  her  good-bye  and 
to  thank  her  again  for  all  her  kindness  to  them  since 
their  arrival  in  Louisiana;  and,  indeed,  before,  for  it 
was  through  her  thoughtfulness  that  the  tables  of 
yellow  pine  and  the  oaken  chairs  had  been  made.  There 
were  many  little  conveniences  that  but  for  her  would 
never  have  entered  the  mind  of  Mr.  Melton. 

Aunt  Judy's  humble  cabin  was  situated  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Bliss  farm.  It  was  quite  a  long  distance 
to  walk,  so  she  was  offered  a  seat  in  the  wagon,  which 
she  gladly  accepted,  as  it  gave  her  an  opportunity  of 
resting.  It  was  not  often  since  the  war  that  this 
calmly  moving  personage  had  done  such  a  day's  work; 
and,  as  she  had  felt  it  incumbent  on  her  to  talk  as  fast 
as  she  had  worked,  she  was  as  much  fatigued  mentally 
as  she  was  physically,  that  is,  if  the  word  mentally 
can  be  applied  to  one  who  possesses  so  small  a  share  of 
mind. 

Mrs.  Bliss  now  bade  them  good-bye,  and  left  with 
many  pressing  invitations  to  them  to  visit  her  at  an 
early  day,  which  they  promised  to  do. 

When  Monk  was  dismissed,  a  little  later,  he  had 
won  golden  opinions  from  them  all.  He  had  been  so 
quick,  so  prompt  to  please,  and  did  not  intrude  his  con 
versation  on  them,  but  was  as  quiet  as  one  could  wish 
a  servant  to  be. 

When  all  were  gone,  and  they  were  seated  around 
the  cozy  tea-table,  how  homelike  it  seemed  to  be  thus 
together  once  more  "under  their  own  vine  and  fig  tree." 


io6  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"We  have  the  home,  and  the  vine  and  the  fig  tree  will 
soon  be  here,  for  I  am  going  to  help  you,  father,  to  get 
a  lot  of  young  trees  to  plant  right  away." 

"It  is  the  vine  and  fig  tree  of  a  pretty  large  imagina 
tion  that  we  are  sitting  under,  then,"  laughed  Mr.  Mel 
ton.  "But,  really,  Evelyn,  that's  a  capital  plan  of 
yours,  and  we  shall  carry  it  into  execution  this  very 
week.  John  told  me  last  week  that  this  is  the  time  to 
plant  fig  trees,  and  remarked  that  I  could  not  make  a 
better  investment  of  my  time  than  to  plant  dozens  of 
them,  as  they  make  the  finest  feed  for  both  hogs  and 
chickens,  besides  being  so  delicious  to  eat.  You  have 
seen  what  nice  preserves  they  make,  as  you  tried  Mrs. 
Bliss's,  I  think,  didn't  you?"  asked  her  father. 

"Yes,  father;  and  those  perfectly  delicious  dried 
confections  she  makes,  with  the  addition  of  a  little 
powdered  sugar,  excel  any  bonbons  I  ever  tasted,"  she 
answered,  enthusiastically. 

Evelyn  had  the  day  before  told  her  father  of  what 
Doctor  Lambert  had  said  of  the  state  of  her  mother's 
lungs.  Mrs.  Melton  did  not  have  any  just  appreciation 
of  the  danger  through  which  she  had  passed ;  and  it  was 
a  long  time  before  her  husband  and  daughter  thought 
it  safe  to  tell  her  what  Doctor  Lambert  had  told  Evelyn 
regarding  her  health  before  she  left  New  England. 

"Nothing  could  have  happened,  father,  that  would 
have  rendered  me  so  perfectly  contented  with  our  South 
ern  move  as  the  knowledge  that  it  is  the  means  used  to 
restore  to  health  a  life  so  precious  to  us,"  said  Evelyn, 
in  concluding  her  recital  of  her  mother's  illness,  and 


The  Refuge.  107 

the  doctor's  statement  in  regard  to  her  mother's  remain 
ing  in  New  England  another  winter. 

As  she  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  faces  she 
loved  best,  and  heard  their  loved  voices  in  familiar  con 
versation,  a  mingled  feeling  of  satisfaction  and  grati 
tude  came  over  her,  known  only  to  those  who  have  heen 
homeless,  for  even  a  brief  period,  as  they  had  been. 

The  remainder  of  the  week  was  spent  as  Evelyn  had 
decided  it  should  be,  in  planting  the  cuttings  that  she 
had  brought  from  their  Maine  garden,  and  assisting 
her  father  in  planting  a  small  enclosure  in  fruit  trees. 
Many  of  their  neighbors  had  given  them  young  trees  of 
apples,  pears,  plums,  peaches  and  figs.  Of  the  latter 
fruit  there  were  several  varieties,  and  Evelyn  was  es 
pecially  interested  in  them,  as  she  had  never  seen  them 
growing.  They  also  planted  for  shade  trees  china,  mul 
berry,  catalpa,  and  the  lovely  sensitive  mimosa,  and 
crape  myrtle  or  lagistraemia. 

"Father,  these  flowers  will  be  full  of  surprise  at  their 
change  of  climate,  will  they  not?"  asked  Evelyn,  as 
they  busily  planted  the  tiny  shrubs  that  had  travelled 
from  one  extreme  of  the  United  States  to  the  other. 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  prosaic  farmer,  "but  I 
hope  they  will  be  pleased  enough  at  the  change  to  grow 
well  and  reward  my  industrious  little  gardener  for  all 
her  toil  in  their  behalf." 

"How  will  we  ever  rid  the  garden  of  all  these  pine 
stumps?"  asked  Evelyn;  "but  perhaps  Mr.  Bliss  can 
tell  us  of  some  plan,  for  they  have  none  in  their  flower 
garden,"  she  added  more  cheerfully. 

"Mrs.   Bliss   says  the  Montgomerys  have  the  most 


io8  Under  the  Magnolias. 

beautiful  home  around  here.  Have  you  ever  been 
there,  father?"  she  continued. 

"Yes;  it  is  the  prettiest  place  I  have  seen  since  I 
came  to  Louisiana.  But  let's  go  indoors  now,  for  the 
sun  gets  too  hot  to  be  pleasant  by  eleven  o'clock/'  as  he 
wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face. 

Thursday  morning  Evelyn  received  a  note  from  Fan 
nie  Montgomery  saying  that  she,  her  sister  and  brother 
would  call  that  evening  at  half  past  seven  o'clock,  if 
agreeable  to  Miss  Melton,  and  as  she  wrote  in  reply  that 
it  was  very  agreeable  they  made  their  preparations  to 
go.  Fannie  was  all  impatience  for  the  hour  to  arrive. 

"I  wrote  them  that  we  would  call  at  half  past  seven, 
Laurie;  we  don't  want  them  to  think  we  are  trying  to 
appear  at  all  fashionable,  do  we  ?"  said  she ;  a  sentiment 
in  which  her  brother  promptly  concurred. 

"How  will  seven  do  to  start  from  here?"  asked  Lau 
rie,  as  he  looked  at  his  watch. 

"That  will  be  about  right,"  responded  Marion. 

Fannie  went  up  to  her  brother  and  gave  him  a  crit 
ical  inspection. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Doctor  Montgomery  makes  a 
Trig5  impression  on  that  Yankee  girl,"  she  said,  as  she 
looked  proudly  at  her  handsome  brother.  He  did,  in 
deed,  look  an  ideal  specimen  of  manhood — tall  and 
straight  as  an  Indian,  with  fine  gray  eyes,  clear  cut 
features  and  a  decidedly  fine  mustache. 

"I  guess  I '  might  make  -conquests  of  all  my  lady 
friends  if  they  would  look  at  me  through  your  partial 
glasses,  my  little  sister,"  said  Laurie,  as  he  kissed  her 
affectionately. 


The  Refuge.  109 

"Now,  Fancy,  I  wish  you  would  be  very  decorous  in 
your  manners  to-night,  for  these  people  are  entire 
strangers  to  us,  and  we  must  not  be  over  officious  in 
our  kindness  to  them,"  he  added  seriously. 

They  went  out  to  the  gate  where  Monk  was  holding 
Forrest,  Laurie's  beautiful  iron  gray,  who  was  to  do 
duty  this  evening  as  buggy  horse.  After  a  short  drive 
in  the  bright  moonlight  they  drew  rein  in  front  of  the 
Melton  clearing. 

Mr.  Melton  met  them  on  the  little  porch  and  invited 
them  into  the  room  that  served  as  parlor  and  sitting- 
room.  The  wide  hearth  was  bright  with  the  blazing 
pine  knot  fire,  and  on  a  little  table  was  a  prettily 
shaded  lamp. 

After  presenting  them  to  his  wife,  who  impressed 
them  quite  favorably  as  a  quiet,  ladylike  woman,  he 
went  off  to  tell  Evelyn  of  the  arrival  of  the  young 
people  who  were  destined  in  the  near  future  to  become 
her  warmest  and  most  confidential  friends.  He  soon 
returned  with  his  daughter,  and  introduced  her  to 
Laurie  and  his  sisters. 

She  was  dressed  very  simply  in  white ;  her  only  orna 
ment  being  a  black  velvet  "dog  collar"  held  together  by 
a  small  diamond  pin,  the  gift  of  Marguerite  Willing- 
ham. 

"She  is  a  lovely  girl,"  was  the  mental  verdict  of  the 
brother  and  sisters,  as  she  gracefully  and  with  perfect 
self-possession  went  through  the  process  of  an  introduc 
tion  to  them.  She  was  usually  pale,  when  she  was 
not  blushing,  which,  as  she  afterward  told  Fannie,  she 
had  a  silly  habit  of  doing. 


no  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Her  soft  brown  eyes  and  dainty  red  mouth  con 
trasted  with  a  profusion  of  rich  dark  hair  piled  high 
on  the  shapely  head,  while  coquettish  tendrils  curled 
naturally  around  the  white  temples.  Her  expression, 
too,  seemed  ever  varying;  now  glad  with  the  light  of 
youth,  or  swept  by  a  touch  of  melancholy  that  rendered 
her,  if  possible,  more  charming  than  she  was  before. 
She  was  small  and  graceful,  and  was  a  good  talker, 
but  seemed  to  prefer  listening  to  others  to  talking 
herself. 

The  evening  was  a  pleasant  one  to  all.  Each  felt 
that  electric  touch  of  sympathy  that  comes  to  us  all 
on  meeting  a  stranger  who  afterwards  becomes  a  dear 
friend.  It  is  as  true  as  it  is  indefinable,  that  subtile 
influence  that  touches  souls  who  are  near  of  kin  in  sym 
pathy. 

Evelyn  played  and  sang  for  them  some  of  the  new 
eongs  that  had  not  yet  reached  these  remote  hills  and 
valleys,  and  they  in  turn  sang  some  of  their  well  ren 
dered  trios.  The  doctor's  voice  was  strong  and  well 
controlled,  and  seemed  to  fill  the  room  with  sound,  yet 
it  accorded  well  with  Fannie's  clear,  bird-like  soprano. 

As  they  sang  Evelyn  wondered  vaguely  why  it  was 
that  his  voice  should  thrill  her  so  strangely.  She  had 
heard  many  fine  masculine  voices  before;  then,  why 
should  this  stranger's  voice  affect  her  more  than 
others  ? 

As  she  looked  at  the  strong,  handsome  singer  she 
could  not  keep  from  associating  him  in  some  way  with 
the  womanly  idea  of  a  hero. 


The  Refuge.  m 

When  the  song  was  finished,  Laurie  turned  his 
flushed  face  to  her  and  said: 

"I  suppose,  Miss  Melton,  you  are  fond  of  music,  are 
you  not?  My  sister  Marion  is  planning  to  monopolize 
a  good  deal  of  your  time  practicing  duets  with  her. 
She  has  never  succeeded  in  persuading  Fannie  to  stay 
in  the  house  long  enough  to  learn  to  play  with  her/' 

"Yes,  indeed ;  I  love  music  better  than  anything  else, 
I  believe,"  Evelyn  responded,  "and  will  take  great 
pleasure  in  practicing  with  Miss  Montgomery.  If  she 
loves  music  as  well  as  I  do,  we  shall  become  very  musical 
this  winter." 

"Well,  please  don't  plan  to  practice  all  winter;  for 
I  am  hoping  that  you  love  to  ride  as  well  as  I  do,  so 
that  I  shall  have  company  in  future  instead  of  going 
alone  so  often,  as  I  do.  Marion  does  not  love  horses 
and  will  never  ride  with  me,  and  Laurie  is  nearly  always 
gone,  so  please  tell  me  that  you  love  to  ride  better 
than  anything,  next  to  music,"  said  Fannie,  coaxingly, 
to  Evelyn. 

"Yes,  Miss  Fannie,  I  think  that  if  I  could  ride  as 
well  as  Mrs.  Bliss  says  you  can,  I  should  like  it  ex 
tremely  well,  and  will  join  you  in  that  delightful  pas 
time  as  soon  as  I  get  a  horse  to  ride,"  she  answered 
with  warmth  enough  in  her  tone  to  please  even  Fannie. 

"Oh,  I  will  teach  you,  and  we  shall  begin  imme 
diately,  and  I  can  lend  you  my  pony,  which  is  very 
gentle,  and  I  can  ride  one  of  father's  or  Laurie's  horses 
that  are  not  so  gentle,"  said  Fannie,  eagerly,  delighted 
at  the  prospect  of  the  fun  in  the  enterprise. 

"I  hope  you  and  Miss  Melton  will  constitute  me  an 


ii2  Under  the  Magnolias. 

assistant  teacher  in  the  riding  lessons.  I  think  I  will 
make  an  admirable  preceptor.  At  least,  I  may  act  as 
escort,  may  I  not?"  and  they  all  laughed  at  Laurie, 
who  added  gravely: 

"Seriously,  though,  Miss  Melton,  let  me  advise  you 
to  beware  of  horses  that  Fannie  may  think  gentle,  but 
take  her  assertions  to  that  effect  'cum  grano  salis/  as 
she  is  such  a  fearless  rider  that  she  is  not  a  safe  judge 
of  what  you  should  ride;  don't  forget,  please." 

"Miss  Melton,  I  am  so  much  pleased  at  the  thought 
of  the  fun  we  are  going  to  have,  I  love  you  already, 
and  think  we  are  going  to  be  good  friends.  I  always 
know  when  I  first  meet  anyone  whether  or  not  I  am 
going  to  love  them ;  do  you  ?"  Fannie  asked,  naively. 

"Yes,  I  am  constituted  similarly  myself,  Miss  Fan 
nie,"  replied  Evelyn. 

"Then,"  said  Laurie,  "you  and  Fannie  believe  in  love 
at  first  sight." 

"No,  not  exactly,"  responded  Evelyn,  answering  the 
]ook  of  mischief  in  the  gray  eyes  with  a  slight  rise  of 
color.  "But  what  do  you  think  of  it,  Doctor  Montgom 
ery  ?  Do  you  think  it  possible  for  anyone  to  fall  in  love 
on  first  acquaintance?" 

"I  do  not  suppose  one  could  really  be  in  love  with  a 
person  whom  he  had  met  but  once,  but  I  do  think  that 
there  is  in  the  heart  an  emotion,  I  may  say,  a  feeling 
of  receptivity,  that  might  quickly,  on  further  acquaint 
ance,  ripen  into  a  desperate  case  of  real  love,"  Laurie 
answered  earnestly,  though  there  might  be  seen  mis 
chief  lurking  in  his  eyes. 

"Well,  I  know  that  I  shall  fall  in  love  at  first  sight," 


The  Refuge.  113 

said  Fannie;  "that  is,  if  I  ever  meet  anyone  whom  I 
can  love,"  she  added,  reflectively. 

"None  of  us  doubt  that  of  you,  Fairy.  At  least,  you 
will  think  that  you  are  desperately  in  love,"  said  Lau 
rie,  laughing  at  the  indignant  protest  he  saw  in  his 
sister's  eyes. 

"Yes,  Laurie  thinks,  Miss  Melton,  that  I  am  too 
young  to  think  of  love,  even;  that  it  is  only  people 
who  have  arrived  at  the  discreet  age  of  twenty-six  who 
can  speak  with  wisdom  on  such  lofty  topics/'  Fannie 
responded,  with  as  much  scorn  as  her  soft  voice  could 
attain. 

The  evening  passed  pleasantly,  and  when  Laurie 
looked  at  his  watch  and  announced  eleven  o'clock,  they 
were  surprised  that  the  hours  had  passed  so  swiftly. 

"Miss  Melton,"  said  Marion  on  leaving,  "it  is  just  a 
pleasant  short  walk  from  here  to  'The  Magnolias/  and 
I  hope  for  a  return  of  our  call  at  an  early  date." 

"I  will  come  over  in  a  few  days  and  drive  you  over 
there  to  show  you  the  way,  if  you  will  return  with  me," 
proposed  Fannie,  with  her  usual  promptitude  for  say 
ing  and  doing  nice  things. 

"Yes ;  thank  you,  I  shall  be  very  much  pleased  to  go 
with  you,"  replied  Evelyn. 

"Oh,  I  have  an  idea ;  mother  is  coming  in  a  few  days 
to  call  on  Mrs.  Melton,  and  I  will  drive  her  over  and 
take  you  back  with  me  to  spend  the  evening  with  Mai 
and  me,  while  the  mothers  are  getting  acquainted  with 
each  other,"  Fannie  exclaimed,  with  the  air  of  one  hav 
ing  solved  a  difficult  problem. 

"You  are  presupposing  to  a  certainty,  then,  that  I 


H4  Under  the  Magnolias. 

shall  be  absent,  as  my  name  does  not  appear  on  the  pro 
gramme  for  pleasure  on  that  sunny  afternoon,"  said 
Laurie,  with  mock  plaintiveness  in  his  tone. 

"Oh,  I  beg  most  humble  pardon  for  inadvertently 
leaving  you  out  of  my  programme,  dear  brother;  you 
are  so  seldom  at  home  in  the  afternoon  that  I  did  just 
'presuppose'  you  would  not  be  there  on  that  occasion," 
added  Fannie. 

"Well,  Fancy,  I  shall  make  a  very  decided  effort  to 
be  present  on  that  evening  when  Miss  Melton  comes," 
and  Laurie  bowed  "one  of  his  fetching  bows,"  as  Fan 
nie  afterward  described  it  at  home. 

After  a  merry  drive  in  the.  brilliant  moonlight  that 
flooded  all  the  scene  with  almost  daylight  radiance,  the 
visiting  party  arrived  at  home,  a  home  that  never  looked 
lovelier  than  it  did  to-night.  It  was  always  beautiful 
in  the  moonlight,  and  Marion  often  quoted  Scott's  lines, 

"If  you  would  view  fair  magnolias  aright, 
You  must  view  it  by  the  pale  moonlight." 

After  reaching  home  they  went  to  mother  and  father's 
room  to  bid  them  good-night,  and  tell  them  how  much 
pleased  they  were  with  their  new  friend,  whom  Fannie 
described  as  "perfectly  beautiful,  mother." 

"I  am  afraid  to  trust  my  extravagant  little  daughter's 
opinion  on  the  subject  of  people's  appearance,  so  will 
wait  until  I  see  the  young  lady  myself  before  I  make 
up  my  mind  to  regard  her  as  'perfectly  beautiful,'  "  said 
her  mother  playfully,  as  she  received  their  good-night 
kisses.  The  Montgomery  children,  one  and  all,  had 


The  Refuge.  115 

never  outgrown  the  habit  of  going  to  father  and  mother 
for  a  good-night  kiss. 

By  the  time  the  girls  were  ready  for  bed  a  pet 
mockingbird  in  a  mimosa  tree  near  their  window  broke 
forth  with  his  usual  midnight  serenade,  and  made  the 
echoes  vocal  with  his  trills  of  melody.  It  was  not  till 
the  last  echo  died  away  on  the  moonlit  stillness  that  sleep 
came  to  the  eyes  of  the  sisters. 


n6  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MAKING  NEW  FRIENDS. 

"Merry  it  is  in  the  good  green-wood, 
When  the  mavis  and  merle  are  singing, 
When  the  deer  sweeps  by,  and  the  hounds  are  in  cry, 
And  the  hunter's  horn  is  ringing." — Scott. 

EVERY  Sunday  there  were  new  callers  at  The  Refuge. 
The  busy  farmers  of  the  country  settlement  did  not 
have  time  for  visits  of  pleasure  during  the  weekdays, 
but  Sunday  evening  there  could  surely  be  no  harm  in 
riding  over  to  see  a  neighbor.  They  had  been  very 
kind,  and  had  liberally  shared  their  vegetables  with 
their  Northern  neighbor.  Sweet  potatoes  and  fresh 
pork  had  also  been  generously  sent  in,  so  that  at  the 
close  of  a  month's  residence  at  Brierwood,  Mrs.  Melton 
declared  that  she  had  not  felt  the  need  of  a  garden 
at  all. 

In  the  hunts  for  deer,  which  were  taken  every  Sat 
urday,  Mr.  Melton  was  always  included,  and  many 
were  the  fine  pieces  of  fat  venison  that  he  carried  back 
with  him  on  his  return  home.  One  day  the  hunting 
party  captured  a  spotted  fawn  of  great  beauty,  which  by 
unanimous  consent  was  turned  over  to  Mr.  Melton  to 
carry  over  to  his  daughter.  The  deer  in  the  country 


Making  New  Friends.  117 

were  so  numerous  as  to  be  a  real  nuisance  to  the 
farmers. 

Hynda,  as  Evelyn  called  her  little  pet,  proved  to  be  a 
charming  companion,  as  lovely  and  as  graceful  as  her 
mistress  could  desire. 

One  day  as  she  and  her  deer  were  standing  under 
some  trees  in  front  of  the  Melton  homestead,  Doctor 
Laurie  Montgomery  rode  up,  and  as  he  dismounted  he 
noted  with  admiration  the  pretty  picture  they  made  as 
they  stood  in  the  shade  of  the  vine-embowered  oak  tree. 
The  fawn  scampered  away  at  the  approach  of  the  horse 
and  rider,  who  came  forward  and  shook  hands  with 
Evelyn,  remarking  gaily,  as  he  looked  at  the  departing 
fawn: 

"I  hope  Hynda  will  not  meet  with  the  fate  that  befell 
her  unfortunate  namesake." 

"I  trust  not;  for  Hynda  always  had  my  deepest 
sympathy  in  her  sad  history.  I  dare  not  say  how  many 
tears  I  'have  shed  over  her  and  the  brave  Gheber  who 
won  her  love,"  responded  Evelyn.  Then  she  asked, 
"Doctor  Montgomery,  will  you  tell  me  what  kind  of  vine 
this  is,  twined  so  beautifully  about  this  oak?" 

"That  is  one  of  our  more  fragrant  and  early  bloom 
ing  vines,  flowering  generally  in  March,  but  often  in 
February.  The  flowers  are  trumpet-shaped  and  of  a 
lovely  golden  hue.  It  is  the  yellow  jessamine,  or,  as 
the  botanists  call  it,  Gelseminum  sempervirens.  Did 
you  never  see  it  before,  Miss  Melton?" 

"No;  I  have  never  seen  a  flower  like  your  description 
of  this.  I  am  so  glad  the  workmen  left  it  growing 
here;  I  am  surprised  they  did  not  cut  it  down,  and 


n8  Under  the  Magnolias. 

think  they  displayed  some  taste  in  leaving  these  trees 
as  well  as  the  vine." 

"It  will,  ere  many  months  pass,  be  loaded  with  its 
lovely  wreaths  of  flowers,  fairly  fit  to  twine  around  the 
forms  of  beautiful  shepherdesses  leading  forth  their 
lawns  to  pasture,"  and  his  admiring  glances  brought 
the  quick  blood  to  Evelyn's  face,  as  the  soft  eyes  wan 
dered  to  where  Hynda  was  gambolling  in  graceful  curves. 

"I  do  hope  my  little  pet  will  not  meet  with  any  mis 
fortune.  I  am  really  learning  to  love  her  dearly," 
said  Evelyn. 

"Well,  I  would  advise  you  in  time  not  to  bestow 
too  much  of  your  heart  on  her,  as  she  will  very  probably 
prove  ungrateful  and  leave  you  next  Spring,"  said  the 
doctor,  as  he  followed  the  look  of  affection  she  gave 
her  little  favorite. 

"Perhaps  if  you  divide  your  heart  among  several 
dependents  in  the  shape  of  other  pets  it  will  prevent  a 
too  painful  concentration  on  Hynda,  and  to  .provide 
against  that,  I  think  Fannie  has  selected  two  kittens, 
and  I  have  two  charming  little  dogs  for  you  to  pet,  and 
thus  preclude  the  possibility  of  your  becoming  too  fond 
of  Hynda,"  said  Laurie,  his  eyes  shining  with  mischief. 
"But,  by  the  way,  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  tell  you 
that  Fannie  sent  me  over  to  say  that  she  and  mother 
would  call  this  afternoon,  and  that  Fanny  would  take 
no  excuse  from  you  for  not  returning  with  her  to  spend 
the  afternoon  with  us. 

"I  would  advise  you  not  to  carry  Hynda  with  you, 
as  my  dogs  might  conceive  a  desire  in  their  cruel  hearts 
to  see  her  run — just  to  try  her  mettle,  you  know." 


Making  New  Friends.  119 

"No,  indeed,  I  will  not  trust  her  where  there  are 
any  great  ugly  canines;  but  tell  Miss  Fannie  I  shall  be 
ready  to  return  with  her  if  your  mother  will  excuse  my 
absence,  and  ascribe  it  to  your  sister's  management  and 
not  to  mine,"  said  Evelyn. 

"She  will  be  sure  to  place  the  blame  on  shoulders 
that  will  wear  it  lightly,"  Laurie  said,  laughing. 

"I  think  Miss  Fannie  such  a  lovely  girl,  so  kind  and 
thoughtful  of  others.  I  believe  we  are  going  to  be  good 
friends,  don't  you  ?"  asked  Evelyn. 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  we  are,"  he  replied,  looking  with  ad 
miration  into  her  sweet  face. 

"Oh,  I  meant  it  only  to  apply  to  your  sister." 

Feigning  a  very  dejected  air  he  replied  in  mock 
humility : 

"I  am  very  sorry  that  I  am  so  absolutely  excluded 
from  your  friendship,"  but  seeing  that  she  was  con 
fused  and  blushing,  he  came  to  her  relief  by  asking: 

"When  are  you  and  Fannie  to  begin  riding  les 
sons  ?" 

"When  father  buys  me  a  pony." 

"Tell  him  to  empower  me  to  select  one  for  you.  I 
think  I  know  of  one  that  will  just  suit  you,"  he  said, 
kindly. 

"Oh,  thank  you;  but  it  will  be  putting  you  to  too 
much  trouble  for  one  who  is  almost  a  stranger  to  you," 
said  Evelyn,  shyly. 

"We  will  not  be  'almost  strangers'  long,"  he  said, 
gently;  then  bidding  her  farewell,  he  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  away  with  a  very  sweet  face  pictured 
upon  his  heart.  He  left  his  fair  companion  feeling  that 


I2O  Under  the  Magnolias. 

she  had  committed  a  treachery  to  her  womanliness  in  the 
blushes  that  would  come  over  her  face  whenever  she  met 
those  handsome  eyes  fixed  upon  her ;  whether  they  were 
shining  with  mischief  or  earnestly  sincere. 

That  afternoon  found  the  girls  having  a  "lovely 
time/'  as  Fannie  described  it.  Notwithstanding  Lau 
rie's  earnest  desire  to  be  with  them,  he  was  called  away 
just  before  Evelyn  came,  and  like  the  faithful  physician 
that  he  always  was,  he  went  to  serve  duty  before  pleas 
ure. 

Fannie  and  Marion  had  prepared  parched  pinders, 
sugarcane  and  wild  plums.  "All  de  trash  on  de  planta- 
shun  ter  mek  dat  chile  sick,  Baby,  an'  yo  gwine  ter  do  it, 
fiho,"  grumbled  Mauma  Sylvie.  Yet  she  kindly  volun 
teered  the  information  to  Fannie,  "Dere's  some  late 
watermillions  under  de  bed  in  Misstis'  room,  an'  some 
mighty  sweet  bullaces  whut  Monk  foun'  in  de  hedge 
by  de  little  branch,  an'  brung  home  fur  you  chillun." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Mauma,  you  dear  old  thing.  You 
are  so  good  to  me,"  and  Fannie  bounded  away  to  get  the 
aforementioned  trash.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  Evelyn 
thoroughly  enjoyed  the  "trash,"  and  when  they  parted 
that  afternoon  they  were  far  advanced  on  the  road  to 
friendship. 

At  sunset  they  drove  back  to  The  Kefuge,  and  Mrs. 
Montgomery  returned  home  with  Fannie,  who,  before 
she  left,  made  an  engagement  to  come  for  them  as 
soon  as  the  cane  grinding  began,  to  spend  the  day  and 
drink  cane  juice.  They  could  then  see  the  whole  pro 
cess  of  sugar  and  syrup  making. 

In   the   pleasant   autumn   days   that   followed   Mr. 


Making  New  Friends.  121 

Melton  found  plenty  of  work  to  occupy  his  time  in 
clearing  land,  building  fences  and  outhouses.  He  ven 
tured  on  employing  negro  help  by  the  day,  and  found 
them  faithful,  efficient  workers  employed  in  this  way. 
Mr.  Bliss  was  of  much  service  to  him,  by  giving  advice 
in  these  things,  and  many  were  the  visits  exchanged 
between  these  friends.  It  was  his  good  friend  who 
showed  him  how  to  select  his  land  in  which  to  plant 
his  cane;  and  in  the  matter  of  stocking  his  farm,  he 
furnished  the  cattle,  hogs,  sheep,  goats,  and  even  a 
farm  horse,  which  he  told  Mr.  Melton  he  need  not  pay 
for  until  he  got  sufficiently  ahead  to  feel  able  to  do  so. 
There's  nothing  like  owning  a  stanch,  true  friend  who 
will  always  be  the  "friend  in  need."  Such  are,  indeed, 
hard  to  find  in  this  selfish,  workaday  world  of  ours. 

The  last  days  of  November  came  and  the  weather 
grew  so  chilly  as  to  warrant  a  belief  that  there  would 
be  heavy  frost  after  the  next  rain,  so  the  doctor  gave 
orders  for  Uncle  July  to  begin  grinding  cane.  The 
grinding  season  was  always  interesting,  even  to  those 
who  were  accustomed  to  it.  There  was  an  air  of  ex 
citement  about  the  usually  quiet  place  that  was  de 
lightfully  novel.  Every  pickaninny  you  met  had  a 
stalk  of  cane  between  his  glittering  ivories  and  a  look 
of  perfect  content  in  his  dusky  eyes.  Monk,  who  "fed 
the  mill,"  kept  the  world  around  him  resonant  with 
gay  songs,  plantation  ditties,  or  sometimes  subsiding 
into  the  most  funereal  dirges.  Uncle  July  kept  the 
crowd  of  small  blacks  in  continual  dread  by  threaten 
ing  to  knock  down  "ebery  niggar  on  de  place  wid  one 


122  Under  the  Magnolias. 

uv  dese  pineknots,"  of  which  there  was  plentiful  sup 
ply  kept  on  hand  by  Aleck,  the  driver  of  the  ox-team. 

As  soon  as  the  grinding  was  well  begun  Fannie, 
true  to  her  promise,  drove  over  to  The  Eefuge  and 
brought  Evelyn  and  her  mother  home  with  her;  Mr. 
Melton  promised  to  join  them  later  in  the  day. 

It  was  one  of  those  days  of  Indian  Summer  which 
lasts  often  until  late  in  December  in  this  part  of  the 
South.  It  was  the  first  time  that  Mrs.  Melton  had 
seen  The  Magnolias,  and  she  was  struck  by  the  beauty 
of  the  place ;  situated  on  a  commanding  eminence,  with 
a  well  wooded  lawn,  several  acres  in  extent,  and  a  beau 
tiful  flower  garden  in  front.  The  latter  was  now 
bright  with  late  blooming  roses  and  banks  of  brilliant 
chrysanthemums. 

Scattered  among  the  giant  oaks  on  the  lawn  were  a 
large  number  of  magnolias,  cedars,  and  mock  orange 
trees,  while  smaller  spaces  were  filled  by  golden  ar- 
borvitae  and  gardenias.  Surrounding  the  whole  was  a 
thick  hedge  of  casino  and  cherokee;  the  former  now 
glowing  with  its  scarlet  berries. 

As  they  drove  up,  Evelyn  exclaimed : 

"Why,  Miss  Fannie,  I  think  you  ought  to  have 
called  your  home  The  Evergreens.  I  have  never  seen  so 
many  beautiful  evergreens  before." 

"Ah,  you  should  have  been  here  last  May  when 

"  'Faint  was  the  air  with  the  odorous  breath  of  mag 
nolia  blossoms' 

then  you  would  have  conceded  that  it  was  properly 
named." 


Making  New  Friends.  123 

"There  are  so  many  of  those  grand  trees  here.  I 
had  no  idea  they  grew  to  such  magnificent  size  until 
1  saw  those  down  on  the  bayou,  where  Mr.  Bliss  took 
us  driving  a  few  days  ago.  They  were  as  large  as  for 
est  oaks/'  said  Evelyn. 

Marion,  who  had  seen  them  as  they  drove  up,  now 
came  running  out  to  meet  them,  and  greeted  Mrs. 
Melton  with  a  cordial  shake  of  the  hand  and  Evelyn 
with  a  warm  kiss.  As  they  ascended  the  broad,  white 
walk  a  mockingbird  swinging  aloft  on  a  cedar  spray 
that  hung  over  them,  "shook  from  his  little  throat  such 
floods  of  delirious  music"  that  they  all  stopped  involun 
tarily  to  listen  to  the  exquisite  songster,  as  he  gave 
utterance  to  his  ever  changing  notes,  from  triumphant 
songs  to  the  low,  soft  cadences,  that  filled  the  soul  with 
melancholy. 

"Oh,  how  lovely,  how  exquisite !  I  never  heard  any 
thing  so  beautiful  before  in  my  life.  Is  it  a  mocking 
bird  ?  Do  let's  remain  out  here  a  while  longer ;  perhaps 
he  will  sing  again,"  said  Evelyn,  clasping  her  hands  in 
ecstasy. 

"Yes,"  responded  Fanny,  "it  is  a  mockingbird.  I 
wonder  you  did  not  hear  them  sing  while  you  stayed 
with  Mrs.  Bliss.  They  have  a  good  many  of  them  now. 
Mai,  suppose  you  go  in  with  Mrs.  Melton  to  mother, 
and  then  you  can  come  back,  and  we  girls  will  stay 
out  here  a  while  longer." 

Marion  complied  with  the  request,  and  soon  returned 
to  them  in  the  garden,  where  they  were  comfortably 
seated  under  a  spreading  magnolia  tree. 

"We  have  a  great  many  song  birds,  but  none  who 


124  Under  the  Magnolias/ 

sing  so  gloriously  as  the  mockies;  they  are  the  prinia 
donnas  of  the  Southern  opera.  There  are  the  cat  birds 
and  the  gay  little  orioles,  and  the  dainty  humming 
birds,  who  do  not  sing  really,  but  only  hum,  as  they 
suck  the  honey  from  the  flowers  as  the  bees,"  Fannie 
explained  to  Evelyn,  as  they  were  waiting  for  Marion. 

"Do  you  think  we  will  have  any  mockingbirds  at  our 
place?"  asked  Evelyn. 

"No,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  you  will  not;  at  least,  not  for 
some  time.  They  are  not  so  aggressive  as  to  like  the 
novelty  of  emigration.  I  never  heard  a  mockingbird 
sing  in  the  forest  in  my  life.  It  is  singular,  but  true," 
said  Fannie. 

"Yes,  you  know,  Fan,  Mrs.  Bliss  despaired  of  their 
ever  coming  to  their  place;  but  I  think  they  have  been 
nesting  there  for  several  years,  and  I  guess  she  hast 
songs  enough  now  to  please  her,"  said  Marion,  as  she 
continued,  "See,  girls,  what  I  found  as  I  came  down 
the  gardenia  walk,"  and  she  held  up  a  lovely  cape  jas 
mine  bud,  its  rich,  creamy  petals  just  unfolding  suf 
ficiently  to  emit  a  faint,  delightful  odor. 

"Allow  me  to  present  this,  my  favorite  flower,  to  you, 
Miss  Melton,"  and  she  turned  to  Evelyn  and  gave  her 
the  gardenia. 

"Girls,  let's  drop  the  miss  if  we  are  going  to  be 
good  friends,  and  not  be  so  punctiliously  formal,"  said 
Fannie.  "I  do  hate  formality." 

There  was  unanimous  consent  to  the  proposition,  and 
time  passed  happily  amid  the  flowers  until  Mr.  Melton's 
arrival,  when  they  went  in  with  him.  Marion  passed 
on  to  the  dining-room  to  set  the  table — a  bit  of  work 


Making  New  Friends.  125 

in  which  the  Montgomery  girls  excelled.  They  always 
set  the  table  when  there  was  company  at  The  Mag 
nolias. 

When  she  had  completed  the  arrangement  of  the  table 
it  looked  quite  pretty  with  its  spotless  napery  and  taste 
fully  arranged  flowers.  The  silver  glistened  just  a?  it 
did  before  the  war,  but  the  cut  glass  and  china  were 
sadly  reduced  in  number,  as  they  were  not  able  these 
days  to  replace  such  things  but  with  plain  ware. 

"Will  father  and  Laurie  come  in  time  for  dinner, 
mother?"  asked  Marion,  as  she  came  in  from  her  task. 

"Yes ;  one  or  both  of  them  will  return  by  one  o'clock, 
and  I  ordered  Silvy  to  keep  the  dinner  waiting  until 
then,"  answered  her  mother. 

In  a  few  moments  the  elder  Doctor  did  return,  and 
they  had  dinner  immediately,  as  he  said  he  did  not 
know  when  Laurie  would  come. 

The  girls  had  spent  so  much  of  the  morning  in  the 
bright  November  sunshine  they  had  gathered  keen  ap 
petites,  as  well  as  fresh  roses  in  their  cheeks,  Evelyn 
declared  that  she  never  had  such  an  appetite  before. 

The  menu  was  duly  talked  over,  and  Northern  and 
Southern  cookery  compared  and  discussed.  There  was 
one  dish  on  the  table  that  all  who  ever  ate  of,  united 
in  pronouncing  incomparably  fine,  and  that  was  Mauma 
Silvy's  venison  "pompeyhead." 

"This  is  a  dish,  Evelyn,  I  know  you  will  like,  as  all 
aesthetic  people  do/'-  said  Fannie,  as  she  generously 
helped  them  to  freshly  sliced  peaches  and  rich  yeHow 
cream ;  "we  have  them  from  May  to  November,  unless  a 
late  frost  comes  and  kills  them  in  the  Spring." 


ia6  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Well,  Miss  Fannie,  I  like  them  very  much',  though 
I  am  not  the  least  bit  aesthetic,"  laughingly  remarked 
Mr.  Melton. 

"I  think,"  responded  the  Doctor,  "it  is  a  favorite 
dish  wherever  it  is  known." 

After  dinner  the  two  old  gentlemen  repaired  to  the 
hall  to  indulge  in  a  good  smoke,  while  the  Doctor  told 
Mr.  Melton  what  he  knew  of  tobacco  culture,  and  prom 
ised  him  some  choice  seed  and  further  instruction  re 
garding  the  planting. 

The  girls  were  in  loose  wrappers,  discussing  novels 
and  poetry  during  the  hours  of  the  afternoon  siesta. 
At  three  o'clock  the  clatter  of  horse's  hoofs  were  heard, 
and  Fannie,  who  had  run  to  the  window  to  see  who 
it  was,  announced: 

"It  is  Laurie,  and  we  must  get  up  and  dress  so  as 
to  be  ready  to  go  down  to  the  sugar  mill  by  the  time 
he  has  had  his  dinner.  He  will  want  to  go  down  right 
away,  I  know/'  said  she,  as  she  dressed  quickly  so  as 
to  have  time  to  assist  her  friend  if  she  needed  help. 

It  had  been  an  easy  matter  to  drop  the  prefix  that 
Fannie  found  so  burdensome.  To  warm-hearted,,  loving 
girlhood,  but  little  preliminaries  are  necessary  to  form 
true  and  hearty  friendships  which  last  often  through 
life. 

When  they  had  finished  their  toilettes  they  went  down 
to  find  Laurie,  whom  they  met  in  the  hall  below,  just 
coming  in  search  of  them.  He  came  forward  with  a 
bright  flush  of  pleasure  on  his  face  and  warmly  greeted 
his  new  friend. 


Making  New  Friends.  127 

"Laurie,  we  are  en  route  for  the  sugar  mill,  will  you 
join  us?"  asked  Marion. 

"With  a  great  deal  of  pleasure/'  answered  her 
brother,  as  he  took  his  place  by  Evelyn,  and  led  the 
way  to  the  sugar  mill. 

"I  do  noi  expect  you  will  like  Fannie's  'delightful 
drink/  Miss  Melton.  It  tastes  decidedly  sloppy  to  me," 
said  Laurie,  as  he  cast  a  sly  glance  at  Fannie. 

"You  need  not  judge  a  girl's  tastes  by  yours,  I  am 
sure,"  retorted  she;  "you  do  not  like  green  plums  and 
salt,  and  I'll  wager  anything  Evelyn  likes  them;  if 
she  doesn't  she's  that  much  less  a  girl  than  I  thought 
she  was." 

"Yes,  I  will  save  my  claim  to  femininity  by  declar 
ing  my  devotion  to  green  plums,  green  apples,  and 
everything  that  is  green  and  sour,"  said  Evelyn,  laugh 
ing;  "but  mother  is  so  much  afraid  that  I  will  make 
myself  ill  that  I  rarely  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  eating 
these  things." 

Laurie  noted  with  pleasure  the  intimate  manner  the 
girls  had  assumed  toward  each  other. 

When  they  reached  the  well  they  went  around  to 
where  Monk  was  feeding  the  long  stalks  of  cane  to  the 
twc  revolving  cylinders  that  crushed  them.  The  juice 
fell  below  into  a  large  trough  covered  with  coarse  sack 
ing  to  prevent  the  dust  and  trash  from  falling  into 
it.  From  the  trough  it  was  transferred  to  the  evapo 
rator  and  there  boiled  into  syrup. 

They  found  Mr.  Melton  and  the  elder  Doctor  down 
there  busily  discussing  sugar  raising  as  an  industry. 
The  Doctor  understood  the  culture  of  cane  and  also  the 


128  Under  the  Magnolias. 

great  disappointment  likely  to  ensue  if  a  person  counted 
too  confidently  on  making  a  fortune  raising  cane  in 
North  Louisiana,  without  the  means  of  irrigation  at 
his  command. 

After  they  had  watched  the  grinding  for  some  time, 
Laurie  took  a  glass,  and  holding  it  under  the  stream  of 
jtice  until  it  was  full,  brought  it  to  Evelyn  and  in 
sisted  on  her  taking  the  first  draught.  She  drank 
slowly,  as  if  to  criticise  the  taste;  Fannie  waited  impa 
tiently  for  her  verdict.  After  drinking  the  entire  glass 
she  pronounced  it  "very  fine." 

"Ah,  if  it  was  only  a  cold  day,  so  that  it  would  taste 
as  if  it  was  iced,  you  would  think  it  nice,  indeed,"  said 
Fannie  gaily. 

"Let's  go,"  said  Marion,  "for  I  always  get  nervous 
for  fear  Monk  will  get  his  fingers  caught  in  the  mill, 
and  have  his  arm  crushed  to  pieces." 

"You  should  not  he  so  hysterical,  Sis.  I  am  sure  it 
would  give  me  a  heautiful  job  of  amputation  to  per 
form,  and  I  would  allow  you  young  ladies  to  assist  me," 
said  the  young  Doctor,  laughing  merrily. 

"Did  anyone  ever  happen  to  such  an  accident  down 
here?"  quickly  asked,  Evelyn. 

"Oh,  no;  but  then  it  is  quite  possible  if  one  were 
to  become  careless,  as  people  are  very  likely  to  do, 
with  constant  familiarity  in  the  use  of  anything/' 
said  Marion,  as,  calling  to  the  boy  for  the  hundredth1 
time,  she  admonished  him  to  "be  very  careful."  They 
then  went  around  to  the  furnace  over  whose  glowing 
fires  the  evaporator  was  boiling  the  juice  into  syrup. 
They  examined  it  from  the  first  compartment,  where 


Making  New  Friends.  129 

was  poured  the  green,  foamy  juice,  to  where  the  clear 
amber  syrup  fell  into  a  receiver  below. 

"How  very  nice  it  does  look/'  exclaimed  Evelyn ; 
"and  does  the  sugar  come  from  that  honeylike  syrup?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Laurie,  "the  sugar  settles  on  the  bot 
tom  of  the  vat,  and  from  there  it  is  put  in  loose  bar 
rels,  whence  the  molasses  drips  out,  leaving  the  sugar 
dry  and  fit  for  use.  But  you  must  not  confound  this 
primitive  mode  of  making  sugar  with  the  processes  of 
the  great  centrifugal  mills  of  Southern  Louisiana, 
where  sugar  is  made  an  article  of  commerce.  We  only 
make  a  very  good  article  of  brown  sugar  that  is  better 
in  coffee  than  the  whiter  brands  of  commercial  sugars, 
though  a  great  many  people  do  not  know  it." 

"We  are  under  obligations,  Doctor  Montgomery,  for 
jour  learned  dissertation  on  sugar  making,"  said  Fan 
nie,  with  a  mock  curtsey  to  her  brother. 

"It  was  in  answer  to  my  question,"  said  Evelyn,  "and 
I  certainly  appreciate  the  'dissertation/  as  you  call  it, 
Fannie.  I  think  I  will  like  that  syrup  without  having 
to  learn,"  she  added. 

"Well,  you  shall  take  some  of  it  home  with  you  to 
try,"  said  Laurie. 

"Evelyn,  stay  all  night  with  us,  and  we  will  come 
down  here  and  have  a  fine  candyboil  after  supper,  with 
the  last  syrup  in  the  evaporator.  It  will  be  so  much 
fun;  do,  please  stay,  Evelyn,"  said  Fannie,  with  her 
usual  enthusiasm. 

"Yes,  Evelyn,  it  will  give  us  much  pleasure,"  chimed 
in  Mt'ricn. 

"Can  you  resist  so  much  pleading,  Miss  Evelyn?    It 


130  Under  the  Magnolias. 

would  add  a  great  deal  to  our  happiness  if  you  will  con 
sent  to  remain  with  us  for  the  night/'  said  Laurie, 
smiling  down  on  her.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
called  her  by  her  given  name,  and  it  made  the  pink  tint 
deepen  on  the  delicate  face. 

Fannie  had  put  her  arm  around  Evelyn,  and  looked 
coaxingly  into  her  face  for  an  answer  to  her  importu 
nate  appeal. 

"I  will  be  very  much  pleased  to  accede  to  your  kind 
invitations  if  mother  will  consent  to  part  with  me  for 
the  night/'  Evelyn  answered. 

"Oh,  I  will  persuade  her,"  said  Fannie. 

"I  think  you  will  succeed  if  anyone  can,"  responded 
Evelyn,  laughing. 

"Let's  go  right  away,  and  see  what  Mrs.  Melton 
will  say  to  my  plan,  and  then  I  will  get  the  goobers 
ready,"  Fannie  proposed,  energetically. 

"Will  you  Indies  let  me  do  the  eating  while  you  do 
the  shelling?"  asked  Laurie. 

"N"o,  indeed;  you  may  assist  in  the  shelling,  though, 
if  you  will  promise  to  be  real  good  and  not  eat  a  single 
one  of  the  parched  goobers/'  Marion  replied,  laughing. 

Before  they  reached  the  sitting-room  Fannie  met 
them  with  the  delightful  news  that  Mrs.  Melton  had 
consented,  on  condition  that  Fannie  bring  her  some  of 
the  candy,  and  also  that  she  bring  Evelyn  home  early 
in  the  morning;  "all  of  which  I  promised  gladly,"  she 
said,  with  satisfaction  beaming  on  her  expressive  face. 

"Now,  you  all  may  amuse  yourselves  while  I  go  and 
parch  the  goobers  and  gather  the  pecans,  or  rather,  I 


Making  New  Friends.  131 

mean,  get  them  out/'  she  added,  as  she  went  on  to  the 
kitchen. 

"Let  us  have  some  music;  I  want  to  hear  Evelyn 
play  and  sing  again,"  said  Marion,  as  she  led  the  way 
to  the  large,  airy  parlor. 

"And  I  wish  to  hear  her  sing  that  song  again,  she 
sang  the  evening  of  our  first  call,"  said  Laurie. 

"What  song  was  it,  Doctor  Montgomery?  I  think  I 
sang  several  songs  that  evening,"  said  Evelyn. 

"I  do  not  remember  the  name,  but  it  was  something 
about  'silver  threads  among  the  gold,' "  answered  Lau 
rie,  as  he  opened  the  piano. 

"Oh,  yes;  you  mean  that  little  song  by  Kexford.  I 
sing  it  often  for  father;  he  admires  it  very  much.  But/ 
really,  I  feel  ashamed  to  sing  after  hearing  Fannie's 
birdlike  trills,"  she  said,  as  she  took  her  place  on  the 
stool. 

"You  will  sing  that  song  of  Moore's  for  me  again, 
too,  won't  you?  I  don't  suppose  that  Mai  will  care 
for  an  old  song.  I  think  girls  never  do,  do  they,  Mar 
ion?"  asked  the  Doctor. 

"That  depends  to  a  great  extent,  I  believe,  on  the 
frame  of  mind  one  is  in,"  replied  Marion. 

"I  love  the  songs  of  the  real  poets,  even  when  they 
grow  old,  better  than  a  great  many  of  the  vapid  songs 
with  which  the  world  is  flooded  to-day.  I  would  not 
give  'Annie  Laurie'  and  some  of  Byron,  Moore  and 
Burns's  songs  for  all  the  modern  trash,"  he  said,  de 
cidedly. 

"Yet  you  called  for  a  new  song  first  thing,"  said 
Evelyn,  looking  up  into  his  face  with  smiling  eyes. 


132  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Now,  don't  be  so  sweeping  in  your  denunciations, 
Laurie ;  you  may  be  crushing  young  hope  in  the  breasts 
of  Evelyn  and  myself.  You  do  not  know  but  that  we 
both  may  have  some  cherished  manuscript  song  hidden 
away  to  present  to  a  more  appreciative  audience  than 
you  promise  to  be,"  said  Marion. 

"Yes;  and  wouldn't  it  be  a  pity  to  stifle  genius  in 
such  ruthless  style?"  Evelyn  remarked,  laughingly. 

Laurie  begged  pardon  if  he  had  unconsciously  ad 
ministered  anaesthesia  to  a  struggling  muse. 

After  the  songs  were  sung,  Evelyn  became  interested 
in  the  pictures  that  hung  on  the  walls.  She  had  ex 
amined  several  when  she  came  to  a  fine  looking  young 
soldier  dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  Confederate  cap 
tain.  It  was  a  striking  picture,  and  although  the  face 
bore  a  family  resemblance  to  Laurie,  yet  they  were 
very  unlike,  too. 

"That  is  the  picture  of  my  brother  James,  who 
served  in  Longstreet's  corps  during  the  civil  war.  He 
was  wounded  by  a  bullet  from  the  enemy's  guard  in  a 
volunteered  effort  to  reconnoitre  the  Federal  position, 
and  three  weeks  afterward  died  in  the  hospital.  The 
photograph  from  which  this  picture  was  enlarged  was 
taken  just  before  the  battle  of  Chickamauga,"  ex 
plained  Marion,  while  her  voice  trembled  with  emotion. 

"Don't  you  think  he  resembles  Laurie,  Evelyn?" 

"Yes,  and  no;  there  is  more  likeness  to  his  father 
than  to  Doctor  Laurie,"  she  replied,  as  she  glanced  at 
the  young  man  standing  so  quietly  beside  her. 

The  next  picture  was  an  oil  portrait  of  a  very  beau 
tiful  girl,  scarcely  grown.  She  was  in  evening  costume 


Making  New  Friends.  133 

of  sheer  muslin  and  lace.  The  dimpled  shoulders  and 
arms  were  perfect,  and  as  one  arm  was  upraised  to  draw 
aside  the  lace  portiere,  the  slender,  graceful  figure 
showed  to  perfection  against  the  dark  background. 
Evelyn  was  thrilled  with  admiration  as  she  looked  into 
the  large,  clear,  brown  eyes  of  Mary  Montgomery.  It 
was  one  of  those  pictures  to  which  you  feel  assured 
there  is  an  interesting  story  attached. 

Evelyn  stood  with  clasped  hands  before  the  picture 
as  if  enamored  of  the  lovely  face.  After  remaining 
silent  for  some  time,  she  exclaimed: 

"Is  she  not  perfectly  beautiful?  That  look  of  sad 
ness  in  the  exquisite  eyes  only  adds  to  their  beauty," 
she  added,  in  a  low,  hushed  voice. 

"Isn't  it  sad  that  one  so  young  and  lovely  should 
have  to  die?  How  wonderfully  strange  to  us  seem  the 
decrees  of  God  sometimes,"  said  Laurie,  reverently. 

Here  Fannie  came  in  like  a  refreshing  breeze  and 
announced  in  her  characteristic  manner  that  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Melton  were  ready  to  leave,  and  wished  them  to 
walk  a  part  of  the  way  home  with  them. 

"I  -told  them  that  we  would  go,  for  it  is  such  a 
charming  evening  for  a  walk,  and  I  want  to  try  our 
fortunes  with  half  ripe  persimmons.  I  am  so  anxious 
to  see  Evelyn  try  to  perform  that  extraordinary  feat. 
There  will  be  plenty  of  time  when  we  come  back  to 
shell  the  goobers,  now  that  I  have  parched  them." 

The  proposition  met  with  general  assent,  and  in  a 
few  moments  they  were  ready  to  set  out. 

There  was  a  thick  cluster  of  persimmon  tress  just 


134  Under  the  Magnolias. 

midway  between  The  Refuge  and  the  Montgomery 
residence,  a  pleasant  distance  to  walk. 

It  was  a  perfect  evening.  The  soft  tints  of  the 
November  Indian  summer  lay  over  the  fields  and 
woodland.  The  rich  glow  of  autumn  coloring  was  on 
the  trees  in  the  hedges,  and  made  a  vivid  contrast  out 
lined  against  the  dark  background  of  pines  beyond. 
The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  lingering  tenderly 
on  the  summits  of  these  Aeolian  harps  of  the  dim  for 
est  as  if  in  reluctant  farewell. 

The  merry  party  now  reached  the  trees,  laden  with 
sweet,  yellow  fruit.  It  is  a  mistaken  idea  that  a  frost 
is  necessary  to  the  perfect  ripening  of  this  delicious 
Southern  fruit,  as  the  best  quality  of  persimmons  ripens 
in  September,  when  the  weather  is  still  at  summer  heat. 

"Fannie,  I'm  afraid  your  very  juvenile  plan  of  try 
ing  fortunes  will  prove  a  failure  this  time,  as  I  think 
the  persimmons  are  all  ripe,  and,  therefore,  perfectly 
sweet,"  remarked  her  brother,  as  turning  to  Evelyn 
he  added:  "Miss  Melton,  please  take  my  advice  and  do 
not  let  Fannie  persuade  you  into  tasting  those  disagree 
able,  acrid  things,  that  is,  if  she  should  find  any  that 
are  unripe." 

"Evelyn,  you  surely  will  not  miss  the  'golding  op 
portunity/  as  Uncle  July  says,  of  learning  for  certain 
whether  or  not  that  fellow  in  Maine  loves  you,"  urged 
Fannie. 

She  had  declared  that  if  you  could  eat  a  half  ripe 
persimmon  without  making  a  wry  face  it  was  proof 
positive  as  Holy  Writ  that  the  fellow  for  whom  it  was 
named  loved  you  devotedly. 


Making  New  Friends.  135 

"If  you  persist  in  trying  them  I  shall  watch  the 
process,  as  I  am  very  much  interested  in  the  result/' 
said  Laurie  to  Evelyn,  as  she  took  one  from  Fannie  and 
began  eating  a  part  of  it.  She  made  such  an  igno 
minious  failure  as  to  call  forth  peals  of  laughter  from 
them  all. 

"Mr.  Melton,  did  you  like  persimmons  when  you  first 
ate  them  ?"  asked  Fannie. 

"Yes,  Miss  Fannie,  I  thought  them  very  nice.  I 
think  if  they  were  dried  they  would  taste  very  much  like 
dates/'  he  replied. 

"They  belong  to  that  family  of  fruit,"  said  Fannie. 

"Have  you  ever  tried  one  that  was  not  perfectly 
ripe?"  she  asked,  as  she  offered  him  one  that  was  not 
quite  ripe,  but  looked  perfectly  so. 

"Why,  Fan !"  exclaimed  Marion,  "aren't  you  ashamed 
to  offer  Mr.  Melton  a  green  persimmon?" 

"Well,  I  shall  try  it,  Miss  Fannie,  just  for  curiosity's 
sake,"  he  said,  accepting  the  unripe  fruit.  "I  have 
heard  John  Bliss  tell  some  funny  stories  on  the  Taoys 
in  blue'  when  they  would  first  investigate  the  persim 
mon  trees  in  Dixieland.  Ugh!  It  isn't  a  bit  nice, 
Miss  Fannie,  and  I  warn  you  girls  that  it  will  take  a 
hard  lover  to  stand  this  test  of  his  loyalty,"  he  said, 
laughing,  as  he  tried  in  vain  to  get  rid  of  the  tongue- 
tied  taste. 

Mrs.  Melton  even  tried  one,  saying  that  she  could 
eat  green  apples,  but  after  an  effort  she  declared  that 
these  things  were  beyond  her  powers. 

Peal  after  peal  of  merry,  musical  laughter  filled  the 
hollow  with  gay  echoes,  as  the  fortune-trying  party 


136  Under  the  Magnolias. 

hastened  to  gather  some  of  the  wrinkled,  perfectly  ripe 
fruit,  to  get  the  disagreeable  taste  from  their  mouths. 

The  growing  twilight  admonished  them  that  it  was 
time  for  them  to  separate. 

Marion  had  gathered  some  leaves  and  made  a  basket, 
which  she  filled  with  fruit  to  take  home  to  mother. 
As  soon  as  they  reached  the  house  she  went  in  search 
of  her  mother  to  present  her  offering. 

"We  did  not  forget  you,  mother  dear;  just  see  what 
a  lovely  basket  I  made  of  autumn  leaves,"  said  she, 
pointing  to  the  crimson  maple,  and  yellow  and  brown 
spotted  sweet  gum  leaves  of  which  it  was  constructed. 

"Thank  you,  dear,  the  basket  is  quite  a  work  of  art, 
and  the  fruit  very  acceptable,"  said  her  mother,  look 
ing  fondly  at  her  eldest  daughter.  By  this  time  the 
rest  came  up,  and  Mrs.  Montgomery,  turning  to  Fan 
nie,  said: 

"You  will  have  to  initiate  Miss  Melton  into  the 
mysteries  of  gathering  sweet  gum,  parsley  haws  and 
winter  huckleberries.  They  are  very  abundant  this 
year.  I  noticed  some  very  full  bushes  as  we  came 
home  last  Sunday." 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,  mother,  Evelyn  shall  be  quite  a 
Southern  girl  in  a  few  months.  I  assure  you  I  will 
spare  neither  time  nor  pains  to  teach  her  all  I  know," 
said  Fannie,  enthusiastically. 

"Well,  if  Miss  Melton  follows  you  over  hills  and 
dells,  by  rippling  brooks  and  through  grassy  meads,  I 
promise  her  those  correspondents  up  North  will  sigh 
long  for  those  promised  letters,"  put  in  Laurie. 

"Never  fear,  Fannie,  I  shall  write  all  the  letters  I 


Making  New  Friends.  137 

wish  to  write  in  these  long  evenings  we  are  having 
now,  and  on  rainy  days,  that  is,  if  you  have  any  of  those 
kind  of  days  here  in  the  sunny  South.  I  am  beginning 
to  think  that  Longfellow  did  not  have  Louisiana  in 
mind  when  he  wrote  his  'Rainy  Day/  "  Evelyn  remarked 
gaily- 

"Yes,  we  have  rainy  days  in  November,  sometimes, 
but  not  often;  just  commend  me  to  a  January  in 
Louisiana  for  bad  weather,"  said  Laurie.  Fannie 
now  brought  in  the  pinders,  and  also  some  pecans,  say 
ing,  "We  can  work  on  them  until  supper  is  ready  and 
finish  afterward.  Suppose  we  shell  the  pinders  first, 
so  that  Monk  can  pound  them  while  we  are  at  sup 
per,  and  we  can  pick  the  pecans  afterward." 

After  they  made  everything  ready  they  repaired  to 
the  sugar  mill  with  buttered  dishes  and  the  large 
kitchen  spoon  to  stir  in  the  pulverized  goobers  and 
pecan  "goodies." 

They  found  Uncle  July  just  ready  for  them  to 
make  their  candy. 

It  was  a  novel  sight  to  Evelyn,  who  had  spent  so 
much  of  her  life  in  the  school  room.  How  the  pine 
knot  fires  glowed  in  the  furnace,  casting  a  ruddy  light 
over  the  dusky  faces  of  the  negroes,  who  stood  grouped 
around  watching  the  candy  makers.  Over  these  on 
lookers  Uncle  July  was  very  strict,  ordering  them  to 
"stan'  back,  you  niggers,  you,"  and  adding  sotto  voce, 
"or  I'll  knock  you'  brains  out  wid  er  pine  knot." 

No  autocrat  of  all  the  Eussias  ever  ruled  with  more 
despotic  sway  than  did  this  old  ex-slave  over  those  who 
were  under  his  control,  yet  he  was  a  typical  negro  of  the 


138  Under  the  Magnolias. 

old  South,  and  talked  as  if  he  was  regretful  that  the 
old  regime  had  ever  been  changed.  He  looked  back, 
as  did  the  Hebrews  of  old,  whenever  they  fell  into  a 
difficulty.,  to  the  leeks,  the  onions,  the  garlics,  of  their 
sore  bondage  in  Egypt.  How  like  the  human  race  of 
all  ages !  Thinking  the  past,  however  bad,  better  than 
the  present,  and  the  future  better  than  either. 

"Uncle  July,  when  are  you  going  to  have  the  holy 
dance  at  Green  Grove  again?  This  young  lady  is  a 
Yankee,  and  never  saw  a  black  folks'  meeting  in  all 
her  life,  and  I  want  to  take  her  over  there  the  next 
time  you  have  the  holy  dance,  if  you  will  let  me  know 
when  it  comes  off.  And  do,  Uncle  July,  pick  out  a 
nice,  moonlight  night,"  said  Fannie. 

"Well,  Miss  Fannie,  I  'spose  dey'll  hoF  de  dance  w'en 
de  nex'  meetin'  ov  de  confearunce,  ef  de  Lawd  remits  us 
ter  meet  ergin.  Howsumdever,  I'll  funnish  you  de 
news  in  time  to  fotch  de  Yankee  folks  ober  dere  ef  dey 
wants  ter  cum,"  he  answered,  politely.  He  seemed 
rather  proud  of  their  thinking  the  holy  dance  a  sight 
worth  seeing. 

The  candy  was  now  brought  to  a  most  successful 
finish — luckily  with  no  burnt  fingers.  Laurie  gave 
Monk  a  fair  share  of  it  to  divide  among  the  negroes. 
He  was  then  sent  up  to  the  house  with  several  dishes 
for  the  white  folks,  as  he  designated  his  masters  and 
mistresses.  Before  leaving  he  gave  instructions  to 
"Unker  July"  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  candy  he  left 
behind  him. 

The  young  people  followed  the  candy  to  the  house, 
and  spent  the  remainder  of  the  evening  in  pulling 


Making  New  Friends.  139 

and  eating  candy  and  in  merry  conversation.  At  ten 
o'clock  they  were  summoned  to  the  sitting-room  for 
prayer — a  custom  the  Doctor  never  omitted  when  he 
was  at  home. 

How  sweetly  that  old  familiar  hymn,  "The  Day  Is 
Past  and  Gone"  sounded  to  Evelyn,  as  the  clear  femi 
nine  voices,  blending  in  perfect  accord  with  the  strong 
masculine  tones  rose  on  the  still  evening  air.  Then 
followed  the  reading  of  a  portion  of  the  Scripture  and 
an  appropriate  prayer.  Shortly  afterward  the  good 
night  kisses  were  given,  in  which  Evelyn  was  affection 
ately  included  by  Mrs.  Montgomery,  even  the  old  Doctor 
gallantly  affirming  that  he  liked  to  be  kissed  by  the 
little  girls.  Marion  unselfishly  gave  her  place  to 
Evelyn,  as  Fannie  seemed  so  anxious  to  have  her  friend 
share  her  room  for  the  night. 

"Now,  Evelyn,  you  will  be  lulled  to  sleep  by  the 
mockingbird's  sweet  song,  if  he  carries  out  his  usual 
nocturnal  programme  of  singing  in  the  mimosa  tree," 
Fannie  said,  as  they  were  retiring  to  their  chambers, 
and  they  were  not  disappointed. 

By  twelve  o'clock  the  place  was  wrapped  in  stillness, 
unbroken  save  by  the  distant  hooting  of  the  owls  down 
in  tlie  swamp,  calling  each  to  his  fellow,  "Watchman, 
what  of  the  night?" 


140  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTER  X. 

DADDY   MACK. 

"Sweet  peace  conduct  his  sweet  soul, 

To  the  bosom  of  good  old  Abraham."— Kiflg  Richard.     Act  2nd. 

ONE  morning  as  the  girls,  Evelyn  having  spent  the 
night  before  with  them,  were  busy  sewing  and  keeping 
tip  a  merry  accompaniment  of  bright  conversation  and 
laughter,  Mrs.  Montgomery  entered  the  room.  She  was 
carrying  a  waiter  on  which  was  arranged  a  breakfast 
for  someone. 

"Fannie,  I  wish  you  would  take  this  breakfast  down 
to  Daddy  Mack's  cabin,  and  inquire  what  is  the  matter 
with  him.  The  old  man  has  not  been  up  this  morning, 
Silvy  tells  me,  and  I  fear  he  is  sick,  as  he  is  strictly 
punctual  to  come  to  his  meals/' 

"Certainly,  dearest  mamma,  with  the  greatest  of 
pleasure.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go,  too,  Evelyn?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  would  enjoy  a  walk  very  much ;  but 
who  is  Daddy  Mack,  Fannie?"  she  inquired  with  in 
terest  as  she  and  Fannie  bonneted  themselves  pre 
paratory  to  their  walk. 

"He  is  one  of  our  old  negro  men — the  one  who  served 
brother  as  body  servant  in  the  army,  and,  of  course,  we 


Daddy  Mack.  141 

all  think  a  great  deal  of  him  and  treat  him  as  we  would 
no  other  one  on  the  place  except  Mauma  Silvy,"  Fan 
nie  replied. 

"You  know,  Fannie,  I  cannot  get  accustomed  to  the 
free  way  the  darkies  have  of  talking  on  any  and  all 
occasions.  Mother  says  that  she  just  cannot  stand  their 
slothful  ways  in  her  kitchen.  They  are  so  filthy  and 
roguish  too ;  at  least  those  she  has  tried,"  added  Evelyn, 
apologetically,  as  she  remembered  how  much  the  Mont- 
gomerys  loved  their  old  cook  and  always  kept  negroes 
about  them. 

Fannie's  face  flushed  in  momentary  anger  as  she  re 
plied  in  a  tone  as  sarcastic  as  she  could  command: 

"Oh,  of  course,  New  England  housekeepers  are  sup 
posed  to  keep  perfect  kitchens  and  immaculate  dish 
cloths,  while  we  lazy  Southerners  prefer  ease  of  body 
and  mind  to  perfection  of  cleanliness  in  the  culinary 
department." 

Evelyn  laughed  merrily  as  she  said: 

"I  beg  pardon,  my  dearest  friend,  for  ruffling  that 
sweet  temper  of  yours  by  my  thoughtlessly  unkind  re 
marks.  I  think  we  are  quite  even  now  and  we  will 
kiss  and  make  up,  won't  we,  dear?"  to  which  proposi 
tion  Fannie  agreed  with  gracious  good  humor. 

By  this  time  they  had  arrived  at  the  cabin  of  the  old 
negro,  and  walking  in  at  the  open  door  they  found  him 
lying  in  bed. 

"Why,  Daddy,  are  you  sick  ?  Mother  sent  me  to  find 
out  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  and  also  sent  you  some 
breakfast  as  she  said  she  was  sure  you  must  be  ill  or  you 
would  have  come  up  to  the  house  this  morning,"  Fan- 


142  Under  the  Magnolias. 

nie  kindly  inquired,  as  she  gave  him  the  breakfast  she 
had  brought  him. 

"Yas,  Baby,  honey,  I  is  sick,  an'  mighty  sick,  too.  I 
never  went  to  the  house  'cause  I  wasn't  able  ter  git 
there,  an'  I  doan'  wan'  no  brekfus,  needer,  honey,  but 
I'll  jes'  drink  my  coffee,"  and  the  old  man  raised  him 
self  up  painfully  and  took  the  coffee,  while  Fannie  set 
the  untouched  breakfast  in  the  cupboard  in  the  corner 
of  the  room. 

"Daddy,  I  hope  you  can  eat  after  a  while.  Mother 
sent  you  some  nice  broiled  chicken  and  buttered  bis 
cuits,  and  you  like  that  kind  of  eating,  don't  you  ?" 

"I  doan'  know,  chile.  I  feels  lak  I'll  never  wan' 
much  more  vittels  in  disher  werisome  wull,  but  I'm 
sho'  'bleeged  ter  you  chillun  fur  bringin'  me  my  coffee," 
he  replied,  as  he  drank  the  cup  of  coffee  with  feverish 
avidity. 

"Silvy  sho'  meks  good  coffee;  'pears  lak  it  teks  me 
back  ter  the  time  wen  we  uster  git  gennywine  coffee 
fum  the  Yanks.  I  means  wen  we  wuz  in  the  army, 
chillen.  I  sho'  is  sick,  Baby,"  and  he  handed  the  cup 
to  Fannie,  and  then  laid  down  again,  "an'  I  wanster 
see  the  oder  chillen  an'  marster  an'  mistiss  once  mo', 
an'  Silvy,  too ;  'pears  lak  she  been  good  ter  the  ole  man, 
too.  The  wah  is  mos'  ober  wid  me,  an'  I  is  gwine  ter 
do  lak  my  so'jer  boy  done  afor  me;  I'se  jes'  gwine  ter 
drap  out  an'  go  ter  answer  the  rollcall  up  yawnder, 
honey,"  and  a  happy  light  came  into  the  eyes  of  the 
old  man  as  his  simple  faith  caught  a  gleam  from  the 
shining  portals  now  left  ajar  for  him. 

Fannie  and  Evelyn  were  much  impressed  by  the  old 


Daddy  Mack.  143 

fellow's  tones  and  manner  as  he  bade  them  good-bye 
for  the  last  time. 

"Oh,  Daddy!  you  must  not  talk  of  going  away;  we 
can't  get  along  without  you.  I  will  go  for  father  and 
Laurie,  they  can  make  you  well;  they  always  do,  you 
know.  Come,  Evelyn,  we  will  go  and  tell  them  right 
away." 

"Good-bye,  Daddy,  do  get  well  quick,"  and  Fannie 
held  out  her  hand  to  him,  while  her  eyes  were  brim 
ming  with  tears. 

"Good-bye,  Baby,  an'  Gawd  bless  you  evermo',"  he 
uttered  fervently;  and  the  girls  went  out  in  the  bright 
sunshine. 

"Does  he  not  look  dreadfully  ill?  I  fear  he  is  very 
bad,  though  he  does  not  complain  of  any  pain,"  Evelyn 
said  as  they  walked  away. 

"Yes,  I  think  he  is  very  ill,  Evelyn.  Oh,  how  sad  it 
must  be  to  have  to  be  shut  up  in  a  sick  room.  How  de 
lightful  it  is  to  be  well  and  strong,"  and  Fannie  threw 
back  her  shoulders  and  took  in  a  deep  inspiration  of 
the  fresh  morning  air. 

"You  seem  to  exemplify  the  theory  that  living  is 
happiness.  It  is  certainly  a  pleasure  just  to  see  your 
enjoyment  of  life,"  responded  her  friend,  looking  with 
admiration  into  the  beaming  face  that  but  a  few  mo 
ments  before  had  been  clouded  with  genuine  grief,  for 
the  long  lashes  were  still  wet  with  tears. 

"You  constantly  make  me  think  of  Scott's  oft-quoted 
lines : 

"  'As  variable  as  the  shade, 

By  the  light  quivering  aspen  made.'" 


144  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Evelyn,  do  you  think  I  am  too  frivolous  or  show 
too  much  levity  of  character?"  and  Fannie's  soft  voice 
grew  more  musical  and  deeply  serious  as  she  looked 
squarely  into  the  eyes  of  her  companion. 

"No,  indeed!  I  really  think  that  you  are  the  sweet 
est  and  the  best  friend  I  have  on  earth,"  Evelyn  re 
plied,  as  she  put  an  arm  around  Fannie. 

"Fannie,  if  anyone  had  told  me  before  I  left  New 
England  that  in  two  months  I  should  love  a  Southern 
girl  as  I  love  you,  I  would  have  exclaimed,  'impossi 
ble,'  "  and  Evelyn  looked  earnestly  into  the  blue  eyes. 

"It  makes  me  very  happy  to  hear  you  say  that, 
Evelyn.  I  think  I  could  not  bear  you  to  think  other 
wise,  for  I  love  you  very  dearly,  my  best  friend,"  re 
sponded  Fannie,  warmly. 

They  had  now  arrived  at  the  back  gate,  where  they 
were  treated  to  a  noisy  greeting  from  Laurie's  hounds, 
of  which  there  were  four  at  The  Magnolias. 

"These  are  the  dogs  that  the  Doctor  warned  me 
against  allowing  Hynda  to  come  in  contact  with,  I 
guess,"  remarked  Evelyn. 

"Yes,  these  are  his  dogs,  and  he  is  quite  fond  of  them, 
and  tells  the  girls  that  his  theory  is,  love  me,  love  my 
dogs,' "  Fannie  said,  laughing  at  Evelyn's  evident  de 
sire  to  escape  their  affectionate  licking  of  her  hands. 

"I  think  it  would  take  a  big  heart  to  love  all  these 
great,  ugly  dogs,"  replied  Evelyn.  "Do  you  ever  go 
hunting  with  your  brother,  Fannie?"  she  added. 

"Yes,  sometimes;  but  I  have  never  killed  a  deer  yet, 
though  I  came  very  near  doing  so  once  upon  a  time.  If 
you  would  like  to  go,  I  will  ask  Laurie  to  arrange  for 


Daddy  Mack.  145 

us  to  accompany  him  on  the  very  next  drive  they  make, 
and  perhaps  we  will  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him 
kill  one.  Would  you  like  to  shoot  a  deer  yourself,  Eve 
lyn?"  Fannie  asked,  wit"h  a  twinkle  of  mischief  in  her 
eyes. 

"I  do  not  think  I  could  shoot  one  of  the  beautiful, 
timid  creatures,  but  I  should  like  to  see  them  run.  I 
devoutly  hope,  however,  that  I  shall  not  be  in  at  the 
death,"  Evelyn  responded,  fervently. 

"Well,  we  will  go  then.  I  will  ask  Laurie  to  take  us 
to  his  stand,  and  we  will  be  almost  sure  to  see  a  deer 
run,  if  we  do  not  kill  one." 

Evelyn  flushed  a  little,  as  it  occurred  to  her  that  it 
might  not  be  agreeable  to  Doctor  Montgomery  to  be 
bothered  with  girls  on  his  hunting  expeditions;  and 
thinking  thus,  she  said: 

"Never  mind,  Fannie,  I  do  not  wish  to  tax  your 
brother's  obligingness  too  heavily,  so  do  not  mention  it, 
please,  dearie." 

"You  need  not  trouble  yourself,  Miss  Modesty,  on 
that  point.  I  shall  be  very  sure  that  it  is  perfectly 
agreeable  to  the  Doctor,  before  I  prefer  my  request  to 
be  allowed  to  go  with  him,  I  promise  you.  Will  that 
satisfy  you?"  and  having  reached  the  kitchen  door,  she 
handed  the  waiter  to  Mauma  Silvy. 

"Mauma,  did  you  know  that  poor  old  Daddy  Mack  is 
real  bad  sick?" 

"No,  chile,  I  diden'  know  ez  de  ole  fellah  wuz  sick. 
I  tole  Mistiss  dis  mornin'  when  he  wuzen'  heah  fur  his 
brekfus'  ez  he  mus'  be  sick,  'cause  de  ole  man  wuz  sholy 
ructious  'bout  gitten'  his  vittuls  on  time.  I  wuz  feared 


146  Under  the  Magnolias. 

dis  mornin'  ez  he  had  de  rheumatiz  wut  he  caught  up 
in  Yirginny  wen  he  wuz  afollin'  'roun'  wid  my  po'  boy 
in  de  wah  times.  I  knows  he's  got  nutten'  wrong  wid 
his  vittuls,  'cause  I'se  cooked  fur  him  all  de  time.  He 
am'  had  no  inimy  ter  trick  'im  ez  I  knows  on,  honey/' 
and  Mauma  Silvy  went  to  her  table  muttering  some 
thing  about  a  snake  head  being  pounded  up  and  put 
into  people's  food  to  trick  them;  while  Fannie  and 
Evelyn  held  a  hurried  consultation  in  the  yard,  as  to 
whether  they  should  go  in  the  kitchen  and  pop  some 
corn,  or  return  to  Marion  and  the  sewing.  Fannie  cast 
the  deciding  vote  in  favor  of  the  cornpopping,  and  then 
ran  into  the  house  to  tell  her  mother  of  Daddy's  illness. 

Evelyn  went  into  the  large,  clean  kitchen  where 
Mauma  Silvy  held  sway.  The  old  woman  was  bustling 
around  as  usual,  busy  getting  on  her  dinner.  Her  dress 
of  cotton  stripes  was  protected  by  a  big  checked  apron, 
while  her  gay  bandana,  most  properly  tied,  made  a  bright 
bit  of  coloring  on  the  domestic  canvas. 

Fannie  returned  in  a  few  moments  and  told  them  that 
father  and  mother  had  gone  to  see  after  Daddy  Mack. 

"Now  we  will  pop  the  corn,  Evelyn.  I  told  Mai  we 
would  be  back  directly  to  help  her  sew  and  talk;  espe 
cially  the  latter,"  and  Fannie  chattered  away  as  they 
shelled  the  corn. 

"Evelyn,  did  you  ever  hear  Mauma  tell  how  poor 
Frank  was  conjured  to  death?" 

"No,  I  never  heard  it.  Ask  her  to  tell  it,  please,  Fan 
nie/' 

Fannie  turned  to  the  old  cook  and  asked  in  her  most 


Daddy  Mack.  147 

coaxing  tone,  for  she  knew  her  aversion  to  talking  too 
much  to  strangers. 

"Mauma,  won't  you  please  tell  Evelyn  and  me  how 
old  Bill  and  Jake  tricked  Frank,  long  time  ago.  This 
young  lady  says  she  never  knew  anyone  who  was  con 
jured  to  death,  as  you  say  Frank  was,"  and  Fannie 
paused  a  moment,  then  added:  "She  says  that  she  will 
not  believe  that  anybody  has  such  power  over  others,  and 
I  just  want  you  to  tell  her  about  it  all.  She  says  that 
God  will  not  give  them  the  power  to  conjure  people." 

"No,  honey,  de  Lawd  doan'  gib  em  de  power,  'cause 
dey  doan'  git  it  fum  de  Lawd,  dey  gits  it  fum  de  debul. 
De  Lawd  doan'  hab  nutten  ter  do  wid  sich  bizness  ez 
dat  is. 

"Sam  an'  Jake  diden'  keep  no  cump'ny  wid  de  Lawd 
nor  his  people,  I  kin  tell  you,  chillun.  But  dey  sholy 
tricked  my  po'  boy,  an  dis  wuz  how  it  cum  'bout.  Dey 
tuk  a  grudge  'gin  Frank  'bout  Dixie.  Dixie  wuz  a 
likely  gull,  a  putty  yaller  gull  ez  ever  you  seed;  you 
'members  her,  I  know,  Baby,  an'  Frank,  he  wanted  her 
hisself,  an'  she  wuz  dey  niece,  you  know,  ma'am,"  said 
Mauma,  turning  to  Evelyn,  "an'  dey  wuzn't  willin'  fur 
'im  ter  hab  'er,  yit  dey  could'en  fin'  no  fault  wid  him, 
'cepen  'cause  he  wuz  too  black,  dey  'lowed,"  here  the  old 
woman's  voice  assumed  a  tone  of  deepest  scorn. 

"Well,  it  jes'  rocked  on,  an'  Frank,  po'  boy,  woulden' 
give  up  Dixie,  'cause  he  sot  sich  sto'  by  her,  but  I  begin 
ter  notus  dat  he  look  weak  an'  begin  ter  cough  all  night, 
an'  soon  he  wuz  havin'  night  sweats.  I  went  ter  Mars- 
ter  an'  tole  'im  ter  look  atter  Frank  ef  he  diden'  wan' 


148  Under  the  Magnolias. 

ter  lose  a  likely  han'  offen  de  place  ez  ever  toted  a  hoe 
er  f ollered  a  plow,  an'  he  says : 

"  'I'll  fix  'im  sum  med'cin',  Silvy,  right  away/  But 
Lawd,  Lawd,  nutten  in  de  way  uv  med'cin'  could  hoi' 
back  de  debul  fum  his  wuk  on  my  po'  chile.  He  jes' 
got  down  ter  his  lowly  bed,  an'  he  nuver  riz  up  no  mo'. 

"One  day  he  says :  'Mammy,  come  heah  an'  jes'  lissen 
ter  my  breas'  an'  you  kin  heah  a  snake  twistin'  an' 
turnin'  jes  ez  plain  ez  daylight;'  an'  chillen,"  said  old 
Mauma,  in  a  plaintive  tone,  "I  heahed  it  jes'  ez  plain 
ez  you  kin  heah  de  win'  ablowin'  in  de  tree  tops  ober  de 
dairy.  An'  sometimes  he'd  call  me  ter  lissen  ter  de 
groun'  puppies  er  barkin'  an'  growlin'  in  his  breas'.  I 
sho'  could  heah  'em  clean  cross  de  room — true,  honey, 
true  ez  gospil,  an'  jues'  'fo'  he  died  he  sez  ter  Arwildly 
— dat's  his  sister,  ma'am,  whut  wuz  stannin'  by: 

"'Arwildy,  doan'  you  see  dat  white  cloud  wat's 
cumin*  ter  tek  me  home  ?  An'  deres  er  angul  wat  meks 
it  plain  ter  me  ez  it  wuz  Bill  an'  ole  Jake  wut  tricked 
me  an'  put  me  in  disher  fix.  I  fought  so  all  de  time, 
an'  now  de  angul  has  showed  it  ter  me  so  plain.'  But 
Arwildy  said  she  coulden'  see  nutten,  but  she  made  de 
repearunce  ter  him  ez  she  could,  jes'  fur  ter  please  him ; 
'cause  she  hated  ter  disappoint  de  po'  fellah.  An'  now, 
Miss  Eberlyn,  how  kin  I  he'p  'bleevin'  in  de  wuds  ov  de 
dyin'*  ?  De  Lawd  'veafed  ter  him  jes'  what  wuz  de  mat 
ter  wid  him  afo'  he  lef  dis  wull,"  and  after  this  expres 
sion  of  her  implicit  faith-  in  the  words  of  the  dying,  she 
bustled  out  to  the  dairy.  When  she  returned  Evelyn 
asked : 

"Didn't  your  master  attend  Frank  in  his  last  illness, 


Daddy  Mack.  149 

and  did  he  hear  those  strange  noises,  too,  Mauma 
Silvy?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  de  boss  beared  'em,  but  he  jes'  sez: 
'Silvy,  dat's  de  cave'ns  in  Frank's  lungs  w'ere  de  win' 
plays  wen  it  goes  in  an'  out ;'  but,  law,  chile,  I  ain't  got 
no  white  head  on  my  shoulders,  an'  I  'bleeves  wat  I 
'bleeves,  an'  I  can't  he'p  it  ter  save  my  life  fum  de 
grave." 

The  girls  now  took  their  dish  of  snowy  popcorn  and 
went  into  the  house  to  eat  and  discuss  the  strange  belief 
of  the  negroes  in  witch  doctors  and  necromancy  in  gen 
eral. 

Evelyn  was  filled  with  amazement  at  the  superstition 
of  the  woman  who  had  spent  her  whole  life  with  people 
of  culture  and  refinement — a  woman  who  Fannie  had 
told  her  could  read  very  well.  She  had  been  taught 
by  the  mistress,  who  had  made  every  effort  to  eradicate 
from  her  mind  the  superstitions  that  have  such  an  en 
during  hold  upon  the  African  peoples. 

When  Laurie  came  in  some  time  later,  Fannie  and 
Marion  both  left  the  room  to  attend  to  some  domestic 
duties,  leaving  to  him  the  task  of  entertaining  their  fair 
guest — a  task  he  was  more  than  willing  to  undertake, 
and  the  conversation  turned  naturally  on  her  experience 
of  the  morning. 

She  told  him  of  her  surprise  at  finding  so  much  super 
stition  among  a  people  of  whose  intelligence  she  had 
read  such  overrated  descriptions. 

"You  will  be  more  distressed  than  you  are  at  present 
when  you  have  witnessed  the  holy  dance  at  Green  Grove 
Church,  which  you  and  Fannie  are  planning  to  do.  I 


150  Under  the  Magnolias. 

would  try  to  dissuade  you  from  going,  but  think,  per 
haps,  the  sooner  your  eyes  are  opened  to  the  real  condi 
tion  of  the  negro  socially,  morally  and  religiously,  the 
better  you  will  understand  the  position  the  people 
among  whom  you  live  should  occupy  toward  them.  But 
I  warn  you,  now,  do  not  let  the  pendulum  swing  too 
far  in  reaction,  as  it  is  so  apt  to  do,  and  begin  to  think 
the  black  race  unworthy  of  our  prayers  and  our  assist 
ance,"  said  the  young  Doctor,  in  a  tone  so  serious  that 
Evelyn  was  very  much  impressed. 

Fannie  now  came  running  in  quite  gaily  with  the  an 
nouncement: 

"Monk  says  that  Uncle  July  sent  a  message  by  him 
for  us  to  be  ready  for  the  holy  dance  next  Sunday  night. 
Laurie,  you  will  go  with  us,  won't  you  ?"  she  pleaded. 

"I  shall  certainly  not  consent  for  you  to  go  unless  I 
can  accompany  you,  and  hope  there  will  nothing  arise 
to  prevent  my  going,  but  as  man  can  only  propose  and 
not  dispose,  I  may  not  be  able  to  go  with  you  at  that 
time,  so  prepare  for  a  disappointment,  Fairy,  in  case  I 
cannot  go."  Then  he  turned  to  Evelyn  and  watched  the 
sweet  face  that  would  blush  so  beautifully  under  his 
direct  gaze. 

"Well,  Evelyn,  hold  yourself  in  readiness  for  that 
great  occasion.  I  am  so  anxious  to  hear  your  opinion 
of  it  all,"  Fannie  exclaimed,  gleefully,  as  she  waltzed 
about  the  room. 

"I  shall  be  ready,  Fannie,  though  I  assure  you  I  shall 
not  weep  if  I  am  not  allowed  to  go,"  she  replied,  as 
she  looked  with  an  amused  expression  into  the  eyes 
fixed  inquiringly  upon  her. 


Daddy  Mack.  151 

"Did  I  speak  too  dictatorially  ?"  asked  Laurie, 
quickly. 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all;  no  more  than  you  had  a  right  to 
speak/'  she  responded,  smiling. 

"Laurie,  did  you  go  to  see  Daddy  Mack  this  morn 
ing?"  Fannie  inquired. 

"Yes,  and  found  him  very  ill,  indeed.  I  doubt  if  he 
survives  the  night,  poor  old  fellow.  It  makes  me  feel 
very  sad  to  think  of  his  leaving  us.  He  is  one  of  my 
earliest  recollections  in  life,  and  has  seemed  as  one  of 
the  fixtures  that  must  remain  unchanged,"  and  a  shade 
of  sadness  came  into  the  fine  eyes,  that  made  them  more 
attractive  than  ever,  Evelyn  thought. 

"I  shall  not  go  there  again,  then,  for  I  don't  think 
I  could  bear  to  see  anybody  die ;  could  you,  Evelyn  ?" 

Laurie  watched  her  to  see  the  effect  of  Fannie's 
rather  abrupt  question.  The  soft  eyes  grew  moist,  as 
she  answered  gently : 

"I  have  witnessed  several  deaths ;  it  depends,  I  think, 
on  the  way  one  meets  death,  whether  or  not  we  should 
dread  to  witness  it.  We  can  scarcely  hope  to  pass  a  life 
time  without  being  called  upon  to  stand  by  the  bedside 
of  the  dying  at  some  time  or  other.  I  once  stood  by 
the  deathbed  of  a  schoolmate,  who  seemed  so  happily 
filled  with  the  glory  of  the  life  on  which  she  was  enter 
ing,  that  we  were  thrilled  with  a  new  idea  of  the  transi 
tion  of  the  soul.  Since  then  I  have  not  dreaded  death 
for  myself,  as  I  did  before,"  she  answered,  as  a  light 
shone  in  her  eyes  her  friends  had  never  seen  there  be 
fore. 

Fannie   never   forgot   the    expression    she    read   in 


152  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Laurie's  eyes  as  they  were  fixed  for  a  moment  on  Eve 
lyn's  face. 

The  next  morning  the  soul  of  Daddy  Mack  passed 
into  the  hands  of  its  Creator.  His  master,  mistress  and 
Laurie  watched  beside  his  bed  all  night,  and  just  as  the 
day  was  breaking  his  emancipated  spirit  left  its  rude 
structure  to  enter  into  its  reward  for  service  well  done, 
and  there  was  an  empty  cabin  and  many  sad  hearts  on 
the  Montgomery  plantation. 

Fannie  rode  over  in  the  afternoon  to  The  Kefuge,  to 
invite  the  Melton  family  to  the  funeral. 

"There  is  to  be  a  grand  torchlight  procession  from 
the  cabin  to  the  graveyard,  where  I  took  you  walking 
once,  Evelyn,  you  remember.  It  will  be  very  impressive. 
I  have  attended  a  great  many  of  them.  The  negroes 
love  a  funeral  as  well  as  we  white  people  like  to  attend 
a  wedding,"  and  Fannie  thought  she  was  speaking  ad 
visedly. 

Mrs.  Melton  promised  her  they  would  attend  the 
funeral,  and  also  that  she  and  Mr.  Melton  would  join 
the  party  in  the  visit  to  Green  Grove  Church  the  next 
Sunday  night. 

"I  think  you  will  be  very  much  interested  in  the  sol 
emn  funeral  services  of  the  black  people.  They  do  a 
great  deal  of  loud  wailing  and  mournful  einging;  then 
the  flashing  lights,  through  the  dark  woods,  altogether 
makes  one  think  of  a  description  in  a  fairy  tale." 

"Yes,  I  know  it  will  be  very  interesting  to  us,"  said 
Evelyn. 

"At  what  time  shall  we  come  to  the  rendezvous,  Fan- 


Daddy  Mack.  153 

nie  ?  I  refer  to  the  meeting  for  next  Sunday  evening," 
inquired  Evelyn. 

"About  seven-thirty.  The  negroes  never  begin  early, 
and  we  do  not  wish  to  wait,"  replied  Fannie. 

"We  will  be  there  on  time  and  will  come  to  the  fun 
eral  to-night.  Be  sure  and  let  me  know  if  Doctor 
Montgomery  cannot  go  with  us,  so  that  we  will  not 
take  the  trip  uselessly/'  Evelyn  begged,  as  Fannie  got 
on  her  pony  and  rode  away. 

U0h,  of  course,  dear  girl,  bye  bye,"  and  she  waved 
her  hand  in  farewell  and  whistled  to  Gypsy,  who  let  out 
his  speed  and  they  were  soon  at  The  Magnolias. 


154  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

THE   HOLY  DANCE. 

"The  time  is  out  of  joint:     O  cursed  spite, 
That  ever  I  was  born  to  set  it  right! 
Nay,  come,  let's  go  together." — Hamlet,  Act  2nd. 

As  soon  as  the  war  was  over,  the  colored  people,  with 
out  exception,  withdrew  from  the  fellowship  of  the 
whites,  where  they  had  always  worshipped  and  com 
muned.  They  now  built  churches  of  their  own,  or 
dained  ministers,  and  mingled  religion  and  politics  to 
an  alarming  extent. 

Brierwood,  though  so  remote  from  the  towns,  was  not 
a  whit  behind  the  negroes  of  the  more  thickly  settled 
districts. 

Every  negro  church  had  its  "Union  League,"  and 
every  colored  person  belonged  to  it.  At  these  league 
meetings,  usually  carried  on  under  the  guise  of  religion, 
the  excitable  negroes  were  harangued  by  carpet-bag 
gers,  those  low  adventurers  who  had  been  sent  South  by 
the  Government  to  see  that  the  negro  was  allowed  full 
exercise  of  his  right  in  the  ballot — which  right  was  first 


The  Holy  Dance.  155 

of  all  to  elect  the  carpet-bagger  to  a  position  of  trust, 
where  he  swindled  and  stole  from  the  oppressed  and 
improverished  people,  to  his  heart's  content. 

In  this  he  was  joined  by  those  equally  hated  rene 
gades,  the  Southern  scalawag.  They  always  had  a  fol 
lowing  of  the  most  malicious  and  dangerous  negroes  of 
the  community,  who  could  be  persuaded  by  their  lead 
ers  into  any  adventure  that  promised  them  power  over 
their  former  owners. 

The  carpet-bagger  grew  eloquent  on  the  duty  the 
negro  owed  to  him,  who  had  risked  his  life  ( ?)  to  free 
him  from  his  awful  slavery.  It  is  quite  safe  to  say, 
that  not  many  of  that  ilk  ever  got  in  reach  of  the  firing 
line ;  but  the  ignorant  negro  did  not  know  this  and  be 
lieved  all  he  was  told  concerning  their  liberators  from 
the  North.  Alas  for  his  trust  in  such  friends!  He 
learned  to  his  cost,  their  unworthiness,  in  the  years  that 
followed,  when  his  implicit  faith  in  their  promise  of 
"forty  acres  and  a  mule"  turned  into  Dead  Sea  fruit, 
and  his  hopes  became  a  glittering  mirage  of  the  desert. 
But  he  knew  no  better  then,  and  it  led  him  into  very 
grave  errors,  paid  for,  in  many  instances,  with  his  life 
or  heavy  corporeal  punishment. 

When  the  white  people  of  Louisiana  drove  out  the 
carpet-bag  government,  and  the  negroes'  hopes  of  domi 
nation  in  that  State  passed  away  as  dreams  of  the  night, 
they  found  some  compensation  in  their  religious  meet 
ings  where  they  still  held  undisputed  control  of  every 
thing. 

Here  they  gradually  introduced  relics  of  voodooism, 
unearthed  from  somewhere  in  the  dim  past;  brought 


156  Under  the  Magnolias. 

probably  from  the  jungles  of  Africa,  whence  their  fore 
fathers  had  been  sold  into  slavery.  These  barbaric 
ceremonies  they  mingled  with  their  worship  at  Green- 
grove  Church. 

The  holy  dance  being  one  of  their  favorite  cere 
monies,  was  always  observed  once  a  month,  on  Sunday 
evening. 

The  years  of  excitement  through  which  these  people 
had  passed,  intoxicated  with  their  newly  acquired  free 
dom,  had  rendered  them  unfit  for  the  quiet  form  of  wor 
ship  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed  under  the  old 
regime. 

It  is  a  sad  commentary  on  the  aptitude  of  the  in 
ferior  races  to  relapse  into  barbarism,  and  demonstrates 
beyond  a  doubt,  the  necessity  for  Anglo-Saxon  guidance 
and  control  of  them  in  religion  as  in  state  government. 

To  anyone  who  has  known  the  negro  from  his  youth 
up,  these  assertions  will  sound  like  a  truism,  but  there 
are  those  who,  knowing  him  only  at  a  distance,  may  be 
inclined  to  sneer  at  such  sentiments.  To  them  I  would 
say  these  ideas  are  advanced  by  one  who  is  in  deepest 
sympathy  with  this  ignorant  and  superstitious  race. 
Deriving  as  I  did,  in  my  helpless  infancy,  my  sustenance 
from  the  white  milk  that  flowed  from  my  black 
mammy's  breast ;  lulled  to  sleep  each  night  by  the  songs 
that  made  sweetest  melody  to  my  infant  ears;  cradled 
in  her  love  for  many  years — can  I  ever  forget  her  race, 
or  fail  to  aid  them  all  I  may  ? 

Sunday  evening,  at  the  appointed  time,  Laurie  and 
his  sisters  met  the  Meltons  at  the  rendezvous,  which  was 
a  few  hundred  yards  distant  from  the  negro  church. 


The  Holy  Dance.  157 

Just  as  they  came  up  the  strains  of  an  old  familiar 
hymn  rose  on  the  still,  evening  air: 

"How  firm  a  foundation,  ye  saints  ob  de  Lawd." 

"Doesn't  that  sound  fine?"  Evelyn  half  whispered. 

"Yes,"  replied  Laurie,  as  he  found  a  place  by  her 
side,  "most  negroes  have  strong,  melodious  voices,  and 
considerable  ear  for  music." 

He,  with  Evelyn,  now  took  the  lead,  followed  by 
the  others.  They  walked  up  to  the  church,  a  low, 
plank  building  that  Doctor  Montgomery  had  assisted  the 
negroes  in  building  on  a  corner  of  his  plantation. 

The  black  people  in  attendance  had  heard  that  Doctor 
Laurie  was  to  bring  the  Yankees  over  to  the  church 
that  night,  so  there  was  an  air  of  expectancy  among 
them  on  this  particular  evening. 

When  they  reached  the  steps,  the  congregation  were 
engaged  in  prayer.  The  voice  was  that  of  Uncle  July 
and  his  usual  importunate  plea  was  ascending  to  a  throne 
of  grace  for  "de  po'  freed  man  who  put  sich  big  trus'  in 
de  Lawd  ob  our  faders." 

"That,"  whispered  Laurie,  "is  one  of  Uncle  July's 
pet  phrases." 

When  the  prayer  was  closed  they  entered  the  church. 
There  was  a  hush  over  the  audience  as  they  walked 
in.  Monk,  who  was  one  of  the  ushers,  agreeable  to 
the  orders  he  had  received  before  he  left  home,  seated 
them  near  the  entrance.  One  of  the  deacons  now  arose 
and  coming  to  Laurie  inquired  "ef  de  ladies  and  de 
gemmens  wouldn't  prefer  seats  nearer  de  pulpit  ?" 


158  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"No,  thank  you,  Jim/'  the  young  Doctor  replied,  "you 
know  that  I  may  be  called  out  at  any  time,  and  I 
wish  to  sit  where  I  will  not  disturb  the  audience  in 
case  I  have  to  leave." 

"That's  true,  suh,  true  ez  gospil;  it  does  look  ez  ef 
they  allus  picks  out  the  time  ter  git  sick  when  you  comes 
ter  washup  wid  us.  I  think,  suh,  the  deble  has  a  ban' 
in  it,"  answered  James  Monroe,  with  great  satisfaction 
in  his  tone. 

The  singing  was  now  continued  in  a  "catch,"  the 
execution  being  really  very  fine,  as  without  the  slight 
est  hesitation  each  part  was  carried  from  lip  to  lip,  in 
strains  of  gladsome  exultation, 

"Rocky  my  soul  in  the  bosom  ob  Abraham, 
Rocky  my  soul  in  the  bosom  of  Abraham, 
Oh!  rocky  my  soul.  Oh!  rocky  my  soul." 

This  chorus  was  repeated  several  times  after  each 
stanza  of  the  catching  song. 

After  the  song,  the  deacon  before  mentioned,  called 
on  Doctor  Laurence  Montgomery  to  lead  them  in  prayer ; 
he  responded  in  a  brief  but  fervent  petition.  After 
the  prayer  Uncle  July  arose  and  announced  with  quite 
an  air  of  authority : 

"Brudder  Ananias  Bradley  will  now  rise  ter  de  'casion 
an'  esplain  ter  dis  congergation  de  meanin'  an'  export 
ob  de  holy  dance  ez  practussed  by  Gawd's  people  in  de 
ancien'  times  afore  de  flood  drownded  all  de  habitations 
on  de  face  ob  de  yearth." 

The  reverend  gentleman,  a  very  thickset,  black  negro, 


The  Holy  Dance.  159 

with  pronounced  African  features,  yet  withal  a  pleasant 
faced,  harmless  looking  man,  now  occupied  the  pulpit. 

He  opened  the  Bible  and  read,  with  some  difficulty,  the 
sixth  chapter  of  second  Samuel,  from  which  he  took  his 
text,  "And  David  danced  before  the  Lord  with  all  his 
might."  From  this  text  he  proceeded  to  show  how  ac 
ceptable  to  God  was  this  holy  dance  of  the  king  of 
Israel,  and  very  earnestly  did  he  strive  to  prove  that 
the  rite  of  the  holy  dance  was  in  consonance  with  the 
teaching  of  the  Scriptures.  To  the  colored  portion  of 
his  audience  he  proved  beyond  a  peradventure  that  the 
institution  was  a  holy  ordinance  of  the  Lord  God  of 
Israel.  They  were  now,  therefore,  prepared  to  enter 
into  the  observance  of  that  ritual  with  heart  and  soul, 
and  all  their  physical  powers. 

Brudder  Ananias  now  gave  out  the  hymn  of  the  oc 
casion,  calling  out  in  a  loud,  clear  tone: 

"Everybody  what  wishes  ter  tek  part  in  King  David's 
holy  dance  befo'  de  Lord,  I  means  all  members  of 
chu'ches  of  the  same  faith  an'  order,  will  now  come  for 
ward  an'  jine  the  ban'  while  the  sinners  will  tek  a  back 
seat  nex'  ter  the  wall." 

There  was  some  scrambling  among  the  sinners  as 
they  retired  to  the  wall,  but  the  saints  observed  the  ut 
most  decorum,  as  with  solemn  faces  they  lined  up  in  the 
central  aisle.  As  soon  as  the  magic  circle  was  complete 
the  singing  leader  began  in  a  clear,  strong  voice : 

"Keep  inching  keep  inching  keep  inchin'  along, 
Keep  movin',  Jceep  movin',  Tceep  movin'  along,  keep 
movin'." 


160  Under  the  Magnolias. 

The  strain  was  recitative,  in  perfect  march  time,  as 
they  began  to  move  slowly  around  the  central  aisle. 

As  they  began  to  dance,  or  march  it  should  more 
properly  be  called,  Monk  went  around  the  church  and 
put  out  all  the  lights  except  one  dimly  flickering  candle 
in  a  distant  corner  of  the  church.  The  singing  con 
tinued  to  grow  slower  and  more  monotone  until  it  sub 
sided  into  a  rhythmic  droning  that  was  accentuated  with 
every  third  footfall  and  made  a  unison  of  strange  un 
earthly  sounds.  The  dim,  funereal  light,  the  steady 
tramp,  tramp,  tramp  of  multitudinous  feet,  the  weird 
sepulchral  moaning  of  many  voices  in  the  solemn  meas 
ure  of  the  march,  filled  Evelyn  with  a  sense  of  awe. 
She  clasped  her  hands  tightly  together — a  trick  of  hers 
when  strongly  excited.  She  was  of  a  nervous,  highly 
wrought  organism,  and  it  was  at  high  tension  when  a 
woman  among  the  dancers  passing  just  in  front  of  them, 
lifted  her  arms  aloft,  and,  uttering  a  fearful  scream, 
fell  rigid  and  apparently  lifeless,  full  length  on  the 
floor. 

Evelyn  was  frightened  and  looked  quickly  up  at  the 
Doctor,  expecting  him  to  go  at  once  to  the  assistance 
of  the  woman,  but  his  face  was  calm,  almost  smiling. 
He  knew  that  'Kier  Jane  did  not  need  medical  aid,  so 
left  events  to  take  their  usual  course. 

Uncle  July  on  hearing  the  disturbance  came  around 
and  waving  his  hand  toward  the  door,  ordered  in  a 
peremptory  manner :  "B'ar  'Eier  Jane  out,  b'ar  'er  out," 
which  order  was  promptly  obeyed  as  six  strong  arms 
raised  the  woman  and  bore  her  out  to  the  cooler  air 
where  her  overstrained  nerves  might  recuperate. 


The  Holy  Dance.  161 

The  dancers  were  not  the  least  bit  affected  by  the 
"b'arrin  out"  of  'Eier  Jane,  but  kept  up  the  march  until 
three  other  members  fell  prostrate  simultaneously  and 
"Sister  Hester"  kept  up  such  vigorous  shouting,  re 
fusing  to  be  "hilt"  as  she  announced  in  loud  tones,  "I 
don't  wan'  Brudder  Jemes  ter  hoi'  me,  an'  I  don't  wan' 
Brudder  Aleck  ter  hoi'  me,  but  I  wants  Brudder  Ben 
ter  hoi'  me  now."  And  as  several  members  of  the  "ban," 
were  required  to  hold  the  "sperrit  stricken"  ones,  the 
leader  struck  up  the  lively  measure: 

"My  po'  soul  a-hangin'  over  hell,  an'  de  anguls  a-loolcen 
at  me" 

which  was  joined  in  by  all  present  but  the  exhausted 
shouters. 

Laurie  decided  that  it  was  a  very  opportune  moment 
for  them  to  leave  unnoticed,  and  whispering  to  the 
others  his  intention,  they  quietly  left  the  church.  Hear 
ing  the  voices  of  some  of  the  bearing  out  party  at  one 
side  of  the  church,  Laurie  took  Evelyn  around  to  where 
a  torch  was  burning  brightly.  There  they  found  'Eier 
Jane  quite  restored  to  her  former  smiling  condition. 

"Well,  'Rier  Jane,  how  do  you  feel  by  this  time?'' 
Laurie  asked  pleasantly. 

"I  jes'  feels  all  right,  sah;  'peared  lak  de  Sperritt 
jes'  tuk  holt  er  me  an'  I  couldn't  move  ban'  nur  foot. 
I  wuz  de  same  ez  dead,  'peared  lak;  but  I  sho'  wuz 
happy,  sah.  De  win'  fum  hebben  blowed  plum  fru  my 
soul,  an'  I  couldenter  been  no  happier  ef  I'd  been  stan- 
nin'  on  de  walls  uv  de  New  Jerus'lem.  Soon  ez  de 
night  win'  struck  me  I  got  up  spry  ez  er  lizard  an'  ez 


1 62  Under  the  Magnolias. 

supple  as  er  kitten,  after  dat/'  answered  Maria  Jane 
cheerily. 

"You  had  this  young  lady  quite  frightened.  She 
thought  you  were  dead  sure  enough,  and  even  I  thought 
you  had  gone  so  far  that  you  would  need  some  medica 
tion  before  you  were  restored  to  your  senses,"  Laurie 
said. 

"Oh,  no,  sah,  de  Sperrit  ministers  hits  own  physic," 
said  Maria  Jane,  looking  sideways  at  the  young  lady 
from  Yankeedom  as  if  she  were  a  curiosity.  She  evi 
dently  expected  Evelyn  to  bear  some  marks  that  would 
distinguish  her  from  Southern  women.  She  saw  only  a 
delicate,  lovely  face,  whiter  than  usual  and  with  a  look 
of  trouble  on  it  that  was  quite  foreign  to  it. 

"Well,  I  b'leeves  I'll  go  an'  jine  de  ban'  ag'in,"  and 
so  saying  the  Amazonian  looking  negress  turned  to  go 
into  the  church,  whence  still  proceeded  the  loud  and 
spirited  singing. 

Laurie  and  Evelyn  now  joined  the  remainder  of  the 
party  who  were  waiting  at  the  steps  for  them.  They 
walked  silently  down  to  the  big  road  that  passed  in  front 
of  the  church.  When  they  got  out  of  hearing  of  the 
negroes,  Mr.  Melton  remarked  to  his  companions: 

"Well,  I  never  in  my  life  saw  anything  to  equal  this. 
It  is  the  strangest  sight  I  ever  saw,  and  I  can't  think 
how  they  ever  got  up  such  a  thing." 

"Why,  didn't  Brudder  Ananias  explain  it  so  plainly 
that  *he  who  runs  may  read'?"  said  Laurie,  jestingly. 
Then  he  added,  seriously: 

"They  could  not  tell  you  themselves;  they  do  not 
mean  anything  by  it,  only  something  to  make  a  dem- 


The  Holy  Dance.  163 

onstration  of  their  strong  emotions,  that  must  have  some 
outlet.  It  is,  I  suppose,  one  of  the  relics  of  their 
ancient  barbarism  they  have  brought  to  light  and  min 
gled  with  their  worship.  They  are  the  most  emotional 
race  under  heaven,  and  that  mixed  with  their  supersti 
tious  ignorance,  leads  them  into  many  singular  incon 
gruities  in  their  religion." 

They  had  now  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways,  and 
if  the  warm  pressure  that  Laurie  gave  the  trembling 
hand  of  his  companion,  was  lingeringly  tender,  it  was 
because  he  felt  a  deeper  sense  of  the  power  she  was  be 
ginning  to  exercise  over  his  strong,  manly  nature. 

Evelyn  had  not  joined  in  the  conversation  during  the 
short  walk  to  the  big  road.  She  was  thinking  deeply 
of  the  exciting  experience  through  which  she  had  passed 
— more  exciting  than  anything  she  had  ever  witnessed 
before  in  her  life. 

That  her  lot  had  been  cast  among  a  people  of  such 
highly  wrought  superstition  and  moral  degradation  as 
these,  gave  her  a  feeling  of  responsibility  she  could  not 
at  first  define.  By  degrees  the  thought  took  shape  in 
her  mind.  She  felt  that  she  must  do  something  to 
arrest  their  downward  progress  into  actual  heathenism. 
Perhaps  it  was  for  this  very  purpose  God  had  ordered 
her  life  among  these  poor  deluded  creatures;  and  from 
this  night  there  began  a  conflict  in  her  soul  that  had 
been  so  peaceful  and  happy  hitherto.  As  they  walked 
on  home  she  maintained  a  rigid  silence,  which  was  un 
broken  by  any  one  of  the  party  for  some  time.  At 
length  Mr.  Melton  said,  slowly : 

"If  I  were  as  rich  as  some  of  your  Northern  friends, 


164  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Evie,  I  would  establish  a  school  here  for  these  niggers 
that  would  teach  them  some  sense ;  at  least,  I  would  give 
them  the  benefit  of  the  experiment/'  he  said,  and  then, 
as  if  dismissing  a  subject  that  it  was  useless  to  follow 
further,  he  added,  "I  suppose,  though,  it  will  all  come 
right  in  time,  the  schools  and  the  training  for  them." 

Evelyn  sighed,  but  said  nothing.  She  was  thinking, 
but  the  most  profound  thought  brought  no  solution  of 
the  problem  to  her  troubled  brain  and  heart.  At  last  she 
resolved  she  would  tell  Doctor  Montgomery  (the  junior 
member  of  the  firm  she  had  in  mind).  She  had  so 
often  heard  him  express  himself  as  being  distressed 
at  the  condition  of  the  negroes,  and  to  whom  he  was 
always  kind  and  just.  He  knew  how  to  manage  them; 
to  make  them  love  as  well  as  obey  and  respect  him.  To 
him,  in  thought  and  purpose,  she  turned  for  advice, 
and  the  resolve  gave  her  comfort. 

What  a  source  of  pleasure  it  is  to  poor,  weak  hu 
manity  to  divide  even  a  fancied  responsibility  with  a 
friend  in  whom  they  trust. 

Evelyn  was  not  the  weak  girl  one  might  fancy  she 
was.  To  look  at  the  gentle,  dovelike  eyes,  and  the 
ever  changing  flush  that  came  so  quickly  to  the  delicate 
face,  you  might  conclude  that  she  was  not  strong  of 
character,  even  among  the  weaker  sex.  She  dismissed 
nothing  lightly,  and  the  constantly  recurring  thought 
that  haunted  her  was  the  idea  that  perhaps  she  was 
called  by  an  Allwise  Providence  to  devote  her  life 
to  the  work  of  evangelizing  the  poor,  ignorant  negroes 
among  whom  her  lot  was  now  cast.  These  troublous 
thoughts  helped  to  rob  her  cheek  of  its  bloom,  and  her 


The  Holy  Dance.  165 

step  of  its  girlish  elasticity,  in  the  months  that  fol 
lowed.  She  put  it  off  for  a  time,  but  it  would  return, 
and  in  stronger  force  each  time.  After  the  Green- 
grove  meeting  and  Daddy  Mack's  funeral,  she  was 
never  happy,  though  she  performed  her  duties,  both 
social  and  domestic,  as  faithfully  as  ever. 

Meanwhile,  the  promise  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bliss  to 
aid  her  in  securing  the  neighborhood  school  was  not 
forgotten.  Mr.  Melton  had  been  given  the  promise 
of  almost  every  one  of  the  patrons  to  give  to  Evelyn 
the  school  for  the  white  children  in  the  months  of  June, 
July  and  August;  those  months  being  chosen  because 
the  poorer  boys  in  the  settlement  worked  on  the  farms, 
and  could  not  be  spared  from  their  work  at  any  other 
season  of  the  year.  But  in  addition,  there  had  been  an 
effort,  partly  successful,  to  make  up  a  subscription 
school  to  begin  the  first  of  March.  Evelyn  felt  deeply 
the  kindness  of  the  big-hearted  people  in  thus  giving 
this  school  to  a  stranger,  when  it  had  been  eagerly 
sought  for  by  many  of  their  own  people.  But  the  posi 
tion  of  teacher  for  the  black  children  of  the  ward  was 
given  to  a  most  incompetent  negro,  who  knew  little 
more  than  his  dusky  pupils,  and  who  seemed  to  lay 
greater  stress  on  unmerciful  thrashings,  with  roasted 
chinquapin  switches,  than  in  the  quality  of  the  instruc 
tion  he  administered  to  the  poor  pickaninnies  entrusted 
to  his  care. 

It  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  turn  over  the  white 
school  to  another  equally  willing  to  do  the  work,  and 
it  would  be  an  equally  easy  matter  to  get  the  position  of 
teacher  of  the  school  for  the  black  children,  where 


1 66  Under  the  Magnolias. 

efficiency  meant  so  much.  But  could  she  make  the 
sacrifice  of  all  she  held  dear  ?  It  meant  complete  ostra 
cism  for  her,  from  all  the  friends  she  had  been  so  suc 
cessful  in  winning  for  herself  in  the  community. 


Complications.  167 


CHAPTER  XII. 

COMPLICATIONS. 

"If  you  will  see  a  pageant  truly  played, 
Between  the  pale  complexion  of  true  love, 
And  the  red  glow  of  scorn  and  proud  disdain, 
Go  hence  a  little,  and  I  shall  conduct  you, 
If  you  will  mark  it."— "As  You  Like  It." 

A  FEW  days  after  the  visit  to  Greengrove  Church, 
Fannie  rode  over  to  see  Evelyn  and  carry  some  plants 
for  her  flower  garden.  She  took  great  interest  in  the 
cultivation  of  the  little  enclosure,  and  often  lent  valua 
ble  assistance  in  planning  and  planting,  as  well  as  in 
furnishing  shrubs  from  the  old-fashioned  garden  at  The 
Magnolias. 

She  found  her  friend  busy  at  work.  The  face  under 
the  broadbrimmed  hat  was  flushed  with  the  unwonted 
exertion  and  was  looking  very  lovely,  Fannie  thought. 

"How  is  our  garden  progressing?"  she  asked  gaily, 
as  she  jumped  from  her  pony  and  throwing  down  the 
reins,  left  him  to  graze  on  the  lawn. 

"Oh,  finely,  I  think.  I  planted  all  the  magnolias 
Monk  brought  me  and  also  the  roses  and  gardenias  you 
were  so  kind  as  to  send.  Monk  dug  the  holes  and  I  set 


1 68  Under  the  Magnolias. 

in  the  shrubs,  and  I  helieve  they  will  live  nicely,  for  we 
watered  them  as  we  set  them  out,"  Evelyn  replied  as 
she  met  her  friend  in  the  walk. 

"Evelyn,  I  have  come  over  as  hearer  of  an  invitation 
from  the  combined  Montgomery  family  to  your  father, 
mother  and  dear  little  self,  to  dine  with  us  on  Christ 
mas  day.  We  have  planned  to  have  you  remain  for 
the  night,  if  you  will  consent  to  do  so,  as  we  are  to  have 
all  the  young  people  of  the  neighborhood  to  a  little 
entertainment  in  the  evening.  I  think  we  will  have  a 
gay  time;  and  Evelyn,  I  shall  have  the  exquisite  pleas 
ure  of  presenting  to  you  some  more  of  my  admirers. 
I  do  hope  you  will  open  a  heavy  crossfire  from  the  bat 
tery  of  those  dovelike  eyes,  and  slaughter  some  of  them. 
It  will  be  quite  a  favor,  I  do  assure  you.  Now  say,  will 
you  come?  Don't  say  no,  please,"  and  Fannie  paused 
after  her  rush  of  words  long  enough  to  get  breath. 

"I  will  say  yes,  and  will  be  much  pleased  to  accept 
your  kind  invitation.  I  am  sure  it  will  be  equally 
agreeable  to  father  and  mother,"  replied  Evelyn  quiet 
ly,  as  she  and  Fannie  went  in  search  of  Mrs.  Melton. 
They  found  her  busy  in  the  kitchen  and  Fannie  pro 
ceeded  immediately  to  tell  the  errand  that  had  brought 
her  to  The  Eefuge.  Mrs.  Melton,  after  thanking  Fan 
nie,  referred  the  matter  to  her  daughter. 

"Oh,  then,"  said  Fannie,  "I  shall  consider  the  matter 
settled,  as  Evelyn's  acceptance  is  conditional  on  yours 
and  Mr.  Melton's,  so  we  shall  expect  you  on  Christmas 
day." 

When  they  returned  to  the  porch  they  found  Mr. 
Melton  and  old  Mr.  Green,  a  farmer  who  lived  several 


Complications.  169 

mil^s  away,  busily  discussing  matters  in  general.  The 
former  introduced  his  wife  and  daughter  with  whom 
the  farmer  shook  hands  cordially,  then  turning  to  Fan 
nie  he  remarked  pleasantly: 

"I  know  this  gyurl  and  have  knowed  her  ever  sence 
she  was  knee-high  to  a  duck.  You  gyurls  is  quite  thick, 
hain't  you?  Better  not  git  too  thick,  you  mought  fall 
out  an'  then  the  fat  ud  be  in  the  fire." 

Fannie  assured  him  there  was  not  any  danger  of  a 
rupture  between  herself  and  Evelyn.  The  old  man 
then  turned  to  Mrs.  Melton  with  the  inquiry: 

"Has  Mis'  Vincent  an'  her  daughters  ben  over  to  see 
you  yit?  Me  an'  maw  wuz  jest  a-wonderin'  yistiddy  if 
they'd  ever  ben  to  see  you,"  and  the  question  having 
been  answered  in  the  affirmative,  the  old  man  went  on 
talking : 

"I  wuz  jest  a-thinking  ez  I  rode  along  over  here, 
Mr.  Melton,  as  there's  a  good,  useful  family  spiled  by 
the'  bein'  no  man  on  the  place.  Yes,  suh — jest  spiled 
by  selfishness,  kase  the's  no  man  on  the  place  ter  boss 
'em.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Melton,  the  wimming  is  got  ter 
be  bossed  or  they'll  git  that  selfish  a  man  can't  stay  on 
the  place  with  'em.  I  don't  know  of  no  better  way  ter 
take  the  contrairiness  an'  selfishness  outen  a  woman 
than  ter  give  her  a  man  ter  boss  her.  When  a  lot  er 
wimming  live  by  theyselves  for  two  or  three  years  they 
jest  gits  ter  thinking  they  kin  boss  their  neighbors  an' 
that  don't  suit  me  not  a  little  bit,  Mr.  Melton/' 

They  all  laughed  heartily  at  the  seriousness  of  the 
old  man  who  seemed  really  to  believe  that  his  feminine 
neighbors  did  try  to  boss  him  and  who  had  been  so 


i/o  Under  the  Magnolias. 

deeply  interested  in  his  subject  as  to  give  them  no  time 
for  a  reply  to  his  question  as  to  how  they  were  pleased 
with  the  Vincents. 

Mrs.  Melton  now  replied: 

"We  were  very  much  pleased  with  them,  Mr.  Green," 
to  which  he  answered : 

"Oh,  yes,  yes,  you'll  like  'em.  I  tell  maw  they  hain't 
ter  blame.  They's  natchully  good  wimming,  they  jest 
hain't  ben  bossed  in  so  long  they  can't  he'p  it — they 
can't;  hit's  jest  the  natur'  of  the  wimming,  Mrs.  Mel 
ton,"  and  the  keen,  blue  eyes  beamed  with  satisfaction 
at  his  clear  cut  definition  of  the  relative  position  of  the 
sexes. 

Fannie  now  rose  to  go  and  Evelyn  accompanied  her 
to  the  gate,  while  Mr.  Green  continued  his  conversation 
by  asking  his  host : 

"An'  how  does  you  folks  like  our  preacher,  an'  does 
you  think  he's  soun'  on  doctrine,  Mr.  Melton?" 

"Well,  he  did  not  preach  on  doctrine  the  day  I  heard 
him,  only  a  sermon  on  the  beautiful  subject  of  love  to 
God  and  man,  and  I  was  much  pleased  with  him,"  an 
swered  Mr.  Melton. 

"Well,  well,  he  does  fine  sometimes,  jest  fine.  One 
day  las'  summer,  fur  instance,  I  wuz  feelin'  sorter  po'ly, 
an'  wuz  lazyin'  roun'  mos'  of  the  day  an'  I  got  er  holt 
of  a  little  book  some  er  the  chillun  had  lef  there  an'  I 
commence  er  readin'  hit.  'Twas  'bout  Samson — 
Strong  man  Samson,  you  knaw,  an'  I  couldn't  under 
stand  hit  all,  yit  strange  enough  nex'  day,  bein'  confer 
ence  at  our  church  the  preacher  tuk  that  very  same 
thing  fur  his  text  an'  he  made  hit  jest  ez  plain;  all 


Complications.  171 

'bout  Samson  a-slewin'  the  Philistines  with  the  jaw 
bone  of  a  horse,  an'  all  'bout  the  res'er  the  things  in 
the  book.  I  jest  thought  hit  wuz  the  fines'  sermont  I 
mos'  ever  beared.  I  wishes  you  could  er  beared  hit. 
Oh,  you'll  like  him  an'  no  doubt,  an'  you'll  like  his  lady, 
too,  Mrs.  Melton. 

"Married  wimming  ginerally  takes  ter  one  another, 
an'  the  widders  they  takes  after  the  men,"  and  the  old 
man  laughed  so  heartily,  and  his  eyes  twinkled  so 
merrily  at  his  own  joke  that  his  hearers  had  to  laugh 
from  sheer  sympathy  in  his  mirth.  He  now  took  his 
leave,  promising  to  bring  "maw"  with  him  the  next 
time  he  came. 

Fannie  had  bidden  adieu  to  her  friend  and  ridden 
away  full  of  happiness  in  thinking  of  the  near  approach 
of  Christmas,  with  all  its  pleasant  gatherings  and 
simple  country  merrymaking. 

The  weather  was  extremely  pleasant,  and  even  up  to 
Christmas  day  there  was  no  need  of  a  fire  after  the  early 
morning.  The  garden  was  full  of  roses  and  chrysanthe 
mums  unhurt  by  the  few  early  frosts  that  had  fallen. 
The  young  Doctor  was  not  at  home  Christmas  morning 
when  the  Meltons  arrived,  and  no  one  knew  just  where 
he  was. 

Fannie  took  Evelyn  into  the  dining-room,  and  there 
they  found  Marion  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  the 
table  now  radiant  with  tea  roses  and  pink  and  white 
chrysanthemums,  interspersed  here  and  there  with  sprays 
of  arbor  vita?  and  shining  mock  orange  leaves. 

"Have  you  been  to  the  kitchen  yet,  girls  ?"asked 
Marion.  "I  head  Mauma  say  that  she  intended  to 


172  Under  the  Magnolias. 

'catch  Miss  Ebelyn's  Christmas  gif,'  so  I  thought,  per 
haps,  you  had  given  her  that  exquisite  pleasure  already." 

"No,  we  came  in  search  of  you.  I  can't  find  out  where 
Laurie  is.  I  asked  Jim,  and  he  remarked  mysteriously, 
'he's  tennen  ter  some  er  his  own  business,  I  reckin, 
ma'am,'  and  Monk  is  not  to  be  found,  either,  so  I  sup 
pose  I  will  just  have  to  bide  my  time  until  Laurie 
chooses  to  return.  If  Monk  were  here  to  saddle  the 
horses  for  us,  Evelyn  and  I  would  ride  away  and  stay 
all  day,"  said  Fannie,  for  once  really  vexed  with 
Laurie. 

"Humph !  You  needn't  be  angry,  Baby,  with  the  rest 
of  us  because  you  are  vexed  with  Laurie,"  said  Marion, 
"and  I  dare  say  he  has  a  good  excuse  for  his  absence.  I 
am  sure  he  would  not  willingly  miss  being  here  to  see 
Evelyn."  Then  she  added,  "Let  us  go  to  the  parlor  and 
practise  those  anthems  we  are  going  to  sing  this  evening. 
We  will  get  along  badly,  though,  without  Laurie's  voice 
in  some  of  them.  But  we  can  press  papa  into  service/ 
said  Marion  as,  taking  Evelyn's  hand,  she  led  the  way 
to  the  parlor,  now  decorated  with  holly  and  bright 
flowers.  They  showed  Evelyn  where  was  hung  a  large 
branch  of  mistletoe.  Fannie  said  she  didn't  guess  any 
body  would  be  kissed  under  it,  though. 

"Evelyn,  what  do  you  think  of  mine  and  Mai's  decora 
tive  ability?"  asked  Fannie.  She  was  beginning  to  re 
cover  from  her  pique  already. 

"I  think  of  it  as  I  do  of  all  the  work  of  your  deft 
fingers,  Fairy ;  and  I  know  that  Marion's  taste  is  equally 
good,"  answered  Evelyn,  glad  to  see  the  sunshine  back 


Complications.  173 

in  Fannie' s  face,  all  the  brighter  now  for  its  momentary 
obscuration  by  the  flitting  clouds. 

"I  am  going  to  call  father  in  to  help  us  sing,"  said 
Fannie,  as  she  left  the  room. 

She  could  not  find  him  in  the  house,  but  seeing  him 
and  Mr.  Melton  in  the  orchard  looking  at  some  fruit 
trees,  she  set  out  to  go  to  them.  While  searching  for 
them  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  Laurie  at  the  back  gate, 
and  went  bounding  like  a  fawn  to  see  him.  When  she 
reached  the  gate,  she  found  Monk  busily  grooming  a 
little  black  pony  she  had  never  seen  before. 

"Hello !  Fancy,  you  are  just  the  one  I  wanted  to  see, 
and  you  are  just  in  time,"  said  her  brother,  as  he  saw 
her  eyes  opening  wide  with  astonishment. 

"Oh,  Laurie !  Whose  beautiful  little  pony  is  that  ?" 
she  exclaimed. 

"Do  you  think  it  is  pretty?"  he  asked,  well  pleased 
with  her  admiration. 

"It  is  just  a  fairy  pony.  Who  is  it  for?"  she  ques 
tioned  again. 

"Guess,"  said  he,  with  a  look  of  mischief  in  the  grey 
eyes,  though  his  face  wore  an  unwonted  flush. 

"Is  it  for  Evelyn,  Laurie?"  she  asked,  in  a  low  tone, 
while  the  color  deepened  on  his  face  as  he  replied : 

"Yes,  it  is  for  Evelyn,"  and  the  voice  lingered  ten 
derly  on  the  soft  name.  "Do  you  think  she  will  accept 
it  as  a  Christmas  gift  from  your  brother?"  he  asked. 

"I  do  hope  she  will,  and  I  think  she  will.  Let  me  go 
and  bring  her  out  here;  I'll  have  Monk  to  saddle  Gyp 
for  me  and  we  will  all  take  a  ride,  and  now  it  will  be 
delightful,  won't  it,  Laurie  ?"  And  she  ran  toward  the. 


174  Under  the  Magnolias. 

house  when  Laurie  called  after  her:  "Kemember,  Fan 
nie,  I  am  to  ride  with  your  friend." 

"Yes,  of  course,  dear/'  and  running  to  the  house,  she 
appeared  in  the  parlor,  trying  vainly  to  look  uncon 
cerned,  as  she  bade  Evelyn  come  and  get  ready  for  a 
ride,  for  Laurie  and  the  horses  were  waiting  for  them 
at  the  back  gate. 

"Why,  Fannie,  what  is  the  matter?  You  look  pre 
cisely  as  if  you  might  have  encountered  Santa  Glaus,  or 
some  other  wonderful  personage  while  you  were  out. 
Here  Evelyn  and  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  to  come 
with  father  to  help  us  sing,  and  now  you  come  just  like 
a  tornado,  and  have  forgotten  the  songs,"  said  Marion, 
mildly  reproachful.  She  was  used  to  Fannie's  whirling 
temperament. 

"Well,  father  and  Mr.  Melton  were  in  the  orchard, 
discussing  fruit  trees ;  and  I  found  Laurie  out  there  just 
in  the  notion  for  a  ride,  so  here  we  are,  off  for  a  gallop 
through  the  pine  forest,"  said  Fannie,  hurrying  Evelyn 
to  the  back  gate,  where  Laurie  was  awaiting  them. 

"Fannie,  I  never  saw  you  so  excited  before,"  said 
Evelyn,  with  considerable  curiosity  as  to  what  had  made 
her  friend  all  excitement. 

They  were  soon  at  the  gate,  where  stood  the  ponies, 
all  ready  for  mounting,  and  Laurie  standing  with  gloves 
on  and  whip  in  hand,  waiting  for  them. 

As  they  came  up  the  Doctor  shook  hands  with  Evelyn, 
with  a  merry  Christmas  greeting,  and,  handing  her  the 
reins  of  the  little  Attakapas  pony,  said : 

"Miss  Melton,  please  accept  as  a  Christmas  gift  this 
small  token  of  my  respect  and  esteem.  It  is  not  an  ex- 


Complications.  1 75 

pensive  horse,  but  one  that  will,  I  think,  match  well 
with  Fannie's  gallant  steed  in  your  rides  together,"  he 
said,  simply,  and  the  manner  of  presentation  was  so 
quiet  and  brotherly  that  it  made  acceptance  easy  and 
natural. 

"I  thank  you  very  much,  Doctor  Montgomery,  for 
your  kind  thoughtfulness  of  me,  and  accept  this  lovely 
little  pony  in  the  same  spirit  of  true  friendship  in  which 
you  offer  it/'  she  said,  as  she  went  up  to  the  little  horse 
and  patted  him  gently  on  his  shoulder. 

"Isn't  he  lovely,  Fannie?  I  know  I  shall  love  him. 
I  guess  Hynda's  nose  will  be  out  of  joint,  for  a  while  at 
least.  Isn't  he  graceful?  I  think  he  must  be  a  Shet 
land  pony ;  isn't  he,  Doctor  Montgomery  ?"  she  asked,  as 
she  completed  her  survey  of  the  new  pony. 

"No ;  he  is,  in  the  local  vernacular,  a  Tuckapaw ;  but, 
really,  he  is  of  the  Attakapas  breed  of  Indian  ponies," 
replied  Laurie,  as  he  looked  with  undisguised  admira 
tion  into  the  pleased,  smiling  face. 

He  now  assisted  Fannie  on  her  pony  and  then,  turning 
to  Evelyn,  performed  the  same  office  for  her,  while 
Fannie  looked  on  full  of  admiration  for  both  steed  and 
rider,  declaring  that  she  was  unable  to  decide  which  was 
the  prettier  of  the  two,  the  horse  or  its  rider. 

"Well,  if  you  do  not  wish  the  point  decided  for  you, 
you  must  not  constitute  me  judge,"  said  Laurie,  gal 
lantly. 

"Evelyn,  we  have  forgotten  to  ask  the  pony's  name, 
haven't  we  ?"  suggested  Fannie,  who,  in  her  love  of  horse 
flesh,  could  think  of  nothing  but  the  new  horse. 

"Eeally,  I  do  not  know  his  name.    The  Cagen  from 


176  Under  the  Magnolias. 

whom  I  purchased  him,  said  a  good  deal  about  'un  beau 
cheval,'  and  'petit/  and  'joli/  and  bestowed  a  good  many 
such  epithets  on  him  which  I  did  not  understand,  not 
being  well  versed  in  Cagen  French  pronunciation," 
answered  Laurie,  as  they  rode  away.  Fannie  took  the 
lead  and  galloped  ahead,  leaving  Laurie  to  ride  beside 
Evelyn. 

"You  are  not  a  bit  afraid  of  him,  are  you  ?" 

"Oh,  no !  Not  if  you  think  him  gentle  enough  for 
me;  and  I  know  that  you  would  not  have  given  him  to 
me  if  you  did  not  know  he  is  quite  safe  for  even  a  poor 
rider  like  myself,"  and  she  looked  up  at  him  with  an  ex 
pression  of  confidence  that  thrilled  him  with  happiness. 

Fannie  often  rode  back  to  see  what  had  become  of 
them,  and  wondered  why  anyone  could  wish  to  ride  so 
slowly. 

That  ride  was  a  never  forgotten  event  to  Laurie  Mont 
gomery.  His  manner  assumed,  unconsciously,  a  ten 
derly  possessive  air,  that  told  in  language  plainer  than 
words  the  complete  devotion  of  his  heart  to  Evelyn 
Melton.  He  did  not  yet  dare  to  put  into  words  what  he 
now  knew  he  felt.  It  was  too  sweet,  this  tacit  under 
standing  that  existed,  during  and  after  that  ride,  that 
he  was  her  lover,  though  not  yet  an  accepted  one.  He 
would  wait  a  while  longer  until  he  was  more  sure  of  an 
affirmative  answer  to  his  suit,  and  thus  procrastination 
added  another  victim  to  his  long  roll  of  names. 

During  the  ride  Laurie  taught  Evelyn  how  to  put 
her  pony  through  all  his  gaits,  and  he  really  beat  Gyp 
at  some  of  them. 

They  reached  home  in  time  for  the  three  o'clock  din- 


Complications.  177 

nor,  with  such  appetites  as  only  a  canter  through  the 
bracing  air  of  the  pine  woods  can  give  one. 

The  kind,  genial  old  Doctor  knew  just  how  to  enter 
tain  his  guests,  and  not  one  among  the  crowd  who  met 
around  the  abundant  board  that  day  laughed  oftener  or 
more  heartily  than  did  the  New  Englander. 

Evelyn,  too,  seemed  very  happy,  and  laughed  merrily 
at  the  elder  Doctor's  jokes  and  amusing  anecdotes,  of 
which  he  seemed  to  possess  an  inexhaustible  fund. 

After  dinner  was  over  Evelyn  invited  everyone  out 
to  see  her  pony,  and  the  admiration  which  he  excited 
satisfied  even  Laurie. 

It  was  a  merry  party  that  met  at  The  Magnolias  that 
evening.  They  drank  eggnog  and  munched  cake;  they 
sang  anthems ;  they  promenaded  the  long  galleries,  and 
walked  under  the  rustling  magnolias,  through  whose 
shining  green  foliage  sifted  the  silvery  moonbeams. 

How  lovely  Evelyn  looked  in  her  simple  white  cassi- 
mere,  without  any  adornment  save  the  flowers  Laurie 
had  sent  her,  his  admiring  eyes  told  her  sufficiently.  To 
her  was  afforded  the  first  opportunty  of  seeing  Doctor 
Laurie  among  other  young  men,  of  whom  there  were 
about  a  dozen  present;  and  the  contrast  between  them 
justified  her  verdict. 

Captain  Singleton  had  not  yet  arrived,  and,  of  course, 
Marion  was  much  disappointed,  though  her  guests  did 
not  suspect  it  beneath  her  smiling  exterior,  as  she  strove 
to  make  them  pass  a  pleasant  evening. 

Fannie  had  half  a  dozen  admirers,  who  were  "old 
regulars,"  as  she  called  them.  They  were  living  in  the 
hope  that  some  day  she  would  drop  her  gay  badinage 


178  Under  the  Magnolias. 

and  listen  seriously  to  their  oft-repeated  declarations 
of  undying  affection.  A  few  bright  girls,  who  were  a 
"little  fast,"  got  under  the  mistletoe  by  accident  and 
were  promptly  kissed  on  the  spot. 

"How  singular  it  seems  that  in  the  short  space  of  two 
months  people  can  become  such  friends,  and  even  more 
than  friends.  I  do  not  know  how  we  managed  to  exist 
before  you  came.  Now  you  form  so  large  a  share  in  all 
our  social  pleasures,"  Doctor  Laurie  remarked  to  Evelyn, 
as  they  promenaded  the  white  sanded  walks  under  the 
magnolias  that  Christmas  evening.  The  latter,  with  a 
fleecy  fascinator  wrapped  about  her  pretty  Head,  looked 
like  a  vision  of  whiteness,  as  she  stood  with  her  com 
panion  at  a  point  where  the  moonlight  fell  with  a  flood 
of  brightness  over  her.  From  this  point  they  had  a  full 
view  of  the  blazing  planets  that  marked  the  constella 
tion  of  Orion,  as  he  showed  full  length  in  the  eastern 
sky. 

"How  beautiful  those  great  stars  look  in  your  South 
ern  sky/'  Then,  as  if  suddenly  remembering  his  last 
remark,  she  added  softly,  "I  hope  it  does  not  mean  that 
you  will  all  tire  of  me  as  quickly  as  I  have  sprung  into 
popularity." 

He  was  just  about  to  make  reply,  when  a  couple  who 
had  been  "star  gazing"  too,  came  up  and  precluded  the 
possibility  of  further  remarks  of  a  private  nature. 

At  twelve  o'clock  the  merrymakers  dispersed  to  their 
several  homes,  all  agreeing  that  they  had  had  a  "splen 
did  time." 

Evelyn  remained  with  the  Montgomery  girls  for  the 


Complications.  1 79 

night,  for  "convenience'  sake,"  as  Fannie  put  it,  to 
satisfy  any  scruples  her  friend  might  conjure  up  as  to 
the  propriety  of  accepting  her  frequent  invitations  to 
spend  the  night  with  them. 

Pleasantly  passed  the  winter  months,  and  by  the 
middle  of  February  the  trees  began  to  show  signs  of  an 
early  Spring. 

On  the  fourteenth  of  February  Mr.  Blis*  came  over, 
and,  during  the  conversation,  mentioned  that  he  was 
having  some  corn  planted. 

"Isn't  it  very  early  to  begin  corn  planting,  even  in 
Louisiana,  John?"  asked  Mr.  Melton,  in  surprise. 

"Not  for  old  land,  like  the  piece  I'm  planting.  I 
would  not  advise  you  to  begin,  in  fact,  I  would  advise 
you  to  wait,  by  all  means,  until  the  first  of  April," 
answered  friend  Bliss. 

"I  have  been  invited  to  so  many  log  rollings  lately 
that  I  have  not  had  time  to  do  much  work  at  home.  I 
don't  do  much  'rolling,'  but  I  go  to  help  in  the  fun  and 
to  be  sociable." 

"That's  right,  Mr.  Melton ;  that's  right.  Better,  keep 
on  the  good  side  of  the  log  rollers.  You  will  have  a 
great  many  logs  to  roll  yourself  in  a  year  or  two," 
laughed  Mr.  Bliss. 

"Yes,  yes ;  that  is  so ;  but  I  had  not  thought  of  it  in 
that  way,  John,"  said  Mr.  Melton,  with  sincerity.  Then 
he  added : 

"I  guess,  John,  I  will  have  to  ask.  advice  of  you  very 
often  in  making  my  crop." 

"Well,  I  am  sure,  sir,  I'll  be  always  willing  to  do  all 
in  my  power  to  help  you,"  Mr.  Bliss  answered  heartily. 


180  Under  the  Magnolias. 

The  farmers  then  parted,  Mr.  Bliss  going  home  and 
Mr.  Melton  to  his  garden,  which  had  been  planted  on 
Southern  orthodox  lines ;  shallots  in  the  autumn ;  Eng 
lish  peas  in  the  "old  twelve  days/'  while  Spring  greens, 
or  salad,  lettuce,  radishes  and  Irish  potatoes  were 
planted  on  the. time  honored  St.  Valentine's  Day.  Agri 
culture  so  far  south  was  entirely  new  to  Mr.  Melton,  yet 
he  was  succeeding  well. 

In  that  section  there  was  no  finer  garden  that  year 
than  was  his.  He  had  much  advice  given  him  on  various 
matters,  as  advice  is  generally  pretty  freely  given  every 
where.  But  he  went  on  in  his  busy,  quiet  way,  always 
doing,  or  planning  to  do,  something  to  improve  the  little 
home  that  was  growing  in  interest  to  him  every  day. 

He  loved  to  ride  out  in  the  pine  woods  to  look  after 
his  cattle ;  or  down  to  the  bayou  swamp  to  feed  the  little 
"bunch"  of  hogs  he  had  put  in  there.  It  required  only 
a  few  ears  of  corn  once  a  week  to  keep  them  gentle. 

He  and  his  wife  seemed  perfectly  satisfied  with  their 
new  home  and  surroundings;  for  what  it  lacked  in  pres 
ent  comfort,  hope  held  out  in  prospect  for  the  near 
future. 

The  farmer's  industry  and  good  management  had  al 
ready  put  him  in  possession  of  a  field  of  arable  land,  on 
which  he  hoped  to  make  fine  crops  of  peas,  corn,  cane 
and  sweet  potatoes.  His  small  stock  of  sheep,  cattle, 
hogs  and  goats  were  thriving  finely.  Even  as  late  as 
January  the  dry  cattle  on  the  range  were  fat  enough 
to  kill,  and  had  not  cost  their  owners  a  cent  in  feed; 
even  their  salt  was  furnished  them  by  the  natural  licks 
along  the  bayou. 


Complications.  1 8 1 

Evelyn  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  her  small  flower 
garden,  which  had  been  graced  with  a  picket  fence,  to 
keep  Hynda  from  eating  all  the  flowers  that  her  mistress 
had  so  carefully  planted.  The  graceful  little  creature 
often  came  into  the  house  and  lay  down  at  the  feet  of 
her  mistress,  who  had  to  keep  strict  watch  to  prevent 
her  making  an  exit  through  the  front  door  into  the  for 
bidden  Eden  of  young  flowering  shrubs. 

Fannie  had  brought  cuttings  of  Teas,  Noisettes  and 
a  root  of  the  rare  Marechal  Neil,  that  she  had  layered  for 
Evelyn  in  the  fall,  while  the  old  Doctor  had  promised 
to  bud  for  her  a  Cloth  of  Gold  from  his  own  pet  vine, 
which  he  had  trained  to  the  pillars  of  the  gallery.  In 
the  blooming  season  this  magnificent  rose  was  the  ad 
miration  of  all  beholders,  its  flowers  depending  in  golden 
splendor  from  the  white  columns. 

"Evelyn,  I  think  you  will  have  no  mean  rival  of  our 
flower  garden  in  a  few  years/'  said  Fannie,  as  they  stood 
with  flushed  faces,  surveying  their  morning's  work. 

"Indeed,  I  shall  not  think  of  comparing  this  youthful 
f:-pot  with  that  grand  old  garden.  It  will  take  at  least 
a  quarter  of  a  century  to  make  this  anything  like  that. 
But  I  shall  be  modest  in  my  ambition  just  now,  and  try 
to  think  only  of  a  profusion  of  pretty  annuals  and  a  few 
roses.  I  will  leave  the  evergreens  to  come  with  time," 
she  said,  in  answer  to  Fannie's  over-sanguine  expression. 

"There  is  one  kind  of  flower  I  have  never  seen  success 
fully  cultivated  in  our  gardens,  and  that  is  the  lovely 
white  azalea  that  grows  in  our  swamps.  Don't  you  re 
member?  I  showed  you  the  bushes  when  we  were  down 
on  the  ^branch'  one  day  not  long  ago  ?"  Fannie  remarked. 


1 82  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Yes,  I  remember  them;  are  they  the  flowers  that 
Doctor  Montgomery  brought  me  last  week  ?  They  were 
a  most  lovely  pink,  but  he  said  they  were  azaleas,"  an 
swered  Evelyn. 

"Yes;  but  there  are  two  varieties  of  them  in  the 
swamp  here.  The  early-blooming  pink,  which  blossoms 
in  February  or  March,  and  the  pure  white,  which  does 
not  bloom  until  May  or  June,"  Fannie  replied. 

"Did  -you  notice  that  my  beautiful  yellow  jessamine 
is  in  full  bloom,  out  yonder  on  the  lawn?"  inquired 
Evelyn. 

"No;  I  had  not  seen  it.  It  is  strange  that  I  didn't, 
for  I  almost  always  find  the  flowers,  no  matter  where 
they  are  hidden.  I  think,  Evelyn,  I  love  the  wild  flowers 
better  than  the  cultivated  varieties.  I  do  not  know  why, 
unless  it  is  because  they  seem  to  come  more  directly  from 
God,  for  us  to  love  and  admire.  Even  the  common  dog 
wood,  as  they  stand  in  their  snowy  dresses  in  the  green 
woods,  call  forth  more  love  from  me  than  the  choicest 
roses  that  bloom  in  our  gardens,"  mused  Fannie,  in  one 
of  those  reflective  moods  that  came  over  her  sometimes. 

She  now  said  she  must  go,  and  was  passing  through 
the  gate  with  Evelyn,  when  Hynda  came  bounding  to 
wards  them  with  the  peculiar  grace  and  lightness  of  her 
race. 

"Oh !  Isn't  she  a  beauty  now  ?  I  have  had  two  like 
her,  and  they  both  left  me  and  never  returned,"  said 
Fannie,  wistfully,  as  she  patted  Hynda's  shining  coat. 
"Laurie  used  often  to  repeat  those  lines  of  Hynda's  sad- 
fated  namesake: 


Complications.  183 

"  7  never  had  a  dear  gazelle, 

To  glad  me  with  its  soft  dark  eye, 
But  when  it  came  to  Icnow  me  well, 
And  love  me,  it  was  sure  to  die' 

— or  run  away — he  always  added." 

"That  is  the  reason  he  advised  me  so  strenuously  not 
to  hestow  too  much  affection  on  Hynda,  I  guess/'  said 
Evelyn. 

"Evelyn,  please  go  home  with  me.  You  have  not  heen 
over  in  a  long  time.  Marion  told  me  to  tell  you  that  she 
would  not  be  at  home  much  longer,  and  says  that  you 
should  come  very  often  now,"  and  Fannie's  blue  eyes 
grew  moist. 

It  was  a  great  temptation  that  Fannie  had  proposed 
to  her  friend.  She  always  had  such  pleasant  evenings 
with  them.  The  duets  they  played,  the  songs  they  sang 
together,  the  sympathetic  companionship,  were  all  very 
dear  to  her.  Then  there  were  the  quiet  games  of  chess 
with  Laurie,  when  Fannie  and  Marion  considerately  left 
them  alone.  But  she  resolutely  put  aside  the  bright 
vision.  Would  not  Laurie — oh,  no,  she  knew  he  would 
not — but  would  not  others  say  the  visits  were  intended 
for  him?  Would  not  it  be  unmaidenly  in  her  to  visit 
so  often  at  the  home  of  a  young  man  with  whose  name 
people  had  already  begun  to  couple  hers?  Mrs.  Bliss 
had  told  her  that  some  people  were  saying  it  was  a 
"match."  These  and  other  thoughts  flashed  rapidly 
through  her  mind,  as,  kindly  excusing  herself  to  her 
warm-hearted  friend,  she  helped  her  catch  Gyp,  who 


184  Under  the  Magnolias. 

was  feeding  on  the  lawn.  Then  bidding  farewell,  Fannie 
was  soon  lost  to  view  by  a  turn  in  the  road. 

It  was  not  strange  that  people  had  begun  to  link  the 
names  of  Evelyn  and  Doctor  Montgomery,  as  the  latter 
was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Eefuge,  and  Evelyn  was 
almost  as  often  at  Doctor  Montgomery's. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Melton  were  well  pleased  with  the  trend 
of  events.  They  found  no  fault  with  the  young  Doctor. 
He  was  a  man  to  whom  any  parent  might  be  willing  to 
give  his  daughter  in  marriage. 

The  next  day  after  Fannie's  last  call,  Mr.  Bliss  came 
over  and,  in  speaking  of  Evelyn's  school,  said,  jokingly: 

"I  don't  think  Doctor  Laurie  is  going  to  let  us  have 
our  schoolmarm — if  he  is  allowed  to  have  his  way  in  the 
matter." 

Mr.  Melton  flushed  at  this  first  direct  allusion  to  his 
daughter  and  the  Doctor. 

"Well,  John,  I  don't  know ;  you  can  never  tell  for  cer 
tain  what  they  are  going  to  do.  There  is  a  very  nice 
young  man  up  in  Boston,  who  seems  to  like  Evelyn  very 
much,  and,  by  the  way,  she  had  a  letter  from  him  last 
night,  saying  he  would  be  down  here  the  first  of  March 
to  hunt  and  fish  in  these  wild  wood's  for  a  week  or  two. 
He  asked  her  to  recommend  him  a  boarding  place, 
and  she  referred  him  to  you  as  a  fine  place  for  good 
'grub,'  and  nice  quarters  generally.  So  you  had  better 
tell  'Liza  about  it,  as  the  fwimming,'  as  old  Mr.  Green 
would  say,  don't  like  surprises.  You  always  take  all  the 
boarders  that  come  along,  don't  you,  John?"  asked  Mr. 
Melton. 

"Yes;  it's  all  right  about  the  board,"  said  Mr.  Bliss. 


Complications.  185 

"The  young  man  is  a  graduate  of  Yale,  and  quite  rich ; 
worth  half  a  million  at  the  least.  I  don't  know  how 
things  will  turn  out.  I  would  never  bet  on  how  a  wo 
man  will  decide  in  such  matters,  not  even  if  she  is  my 
own  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Melton,  reflectively ;  "but  don't 
mention  what  I  have  told  you,  John." 

"Of  course  not.  But  if  that  young  fellow  proves  to 
be  a  successful  rival  of  Laurie  Montgomery,  I  shan't 
promise  you  that  'Liza  will  love  him,"  said  Mr.  Bliss,  as 
he  and  Mr.  Melton  parted. 

That  night,  when  Mr.  Bliss  was  alone  with  his  wife, 
he  told  her  of  his  grave  fears  on  Laurie's  account. 

"I  am  sure  Doctor  Laurie  loves  Evelyn ;  but  I'm  not 
sure  that  she  would  refuse  a  handsome,  well  educated 
young  man,  with  a  half  million  cash,  for  even  our  young 
Doctor,"  he  said,  doubtfully. 

"If  she  loves  the  Doctor  she  will.  I  don't  believe 
Evelyn  is  a  girl  who  would  sell  herself  at  any  price ;  but, 
of  course,  she  may  love  Mr.  Willingham.  There  is  one 
thing  I  do  believe,  and  that  is  if  Evelyn  don't  love  him, 
she  will  soon  let  him  know  it.  She  is  not  a  flirt,  and  I 
don't  think  money  will  cut  any  figure  in  the  game  with 
her,"  responded  Mrs.  Bliss,  with  emphasis. 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  at  the  Bliss 
homestead,  Laurie  Montgomery  and  Evelyn  were  quietly 
chatting  on  indifferent  subjects  in  the  sitting-room  at 
The  Refuge. 

Evelyn  had  seemed  to  him  to  be  uncommonly  serious 
of  late,  and  often  had  looked  as  if  she"  were  about  to 
speak  to  him  of  something  that  appeared  to  weigh 
heavily  on  her  mind,  and  then,  as  suddenly,  would  break 


1 86  Under  the  Magnolias. 

off  and  change  the  subject.  But  to-night  there  was  r 
look  of  determination  on  her  face.  A  grave,  serious  look 
that  her  companion  could  not  understand.  He  had  seen 
that  look  of  grave  concern  on  her  face  several  times 
lately,  and  it  troubled  him.  She  did  not  leave  him  to 
guess  the  cause,  but,  looking  earnestly  into  his  eyes,  she 
said,  with  considerable  emotion: 

"Doctor  Montgomery,  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  on  a  sub 
ject  that  has  given  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble  ever  since 
the  night  of  the  meeting  at  Greengrove  Church." 

The  strong,  handsome  face  flushed  and  darkened 
visibly ;  he  had  feared  that  something  would  grow  out  of 
Evelyn's  extreme  excitement  on  that  evening,  and  now 
he  felt  intuitively  that  strength,  as  well  as  tact  and 
caution,  were  necessary  to  restrain  a  nature  he  knew  was 
strong,  though  so  gentle.  He  understood  women  better 
than  most  young  men.  Brought  up  as  an  intimate  com 
panion  of  his  noble  mother  and  lovely  cousin ;  constantly 
with  his  sisters  from  their  infancy,  he  had  exceptional 
opportunities  to  learn  that  sex.  He  controlled  himself 
and  spoke  as  gently  as  a  woman  might. 

"If  there  is  anything  in  which  I  can  assist  you,  I  will 
be  more  than  pleased  for  you  to  tell  me  all  about  it.  You 
surely  know  that  I  would  do  anything  in  my  power  to 
serve  you,  even  though  it  be  only  to  offer  my  sympathy," 
looking  into  the  face  that  had  grown  so  dear  to  him. 

"I  have  been  trying  for  two  months  to  tell  you  what 
has  been  in  my  mind,  but  have  always  failed  to  do  so. 
I  have  been  thinking  that  something  must  be  done  to 
elevate  and  better  the  mental  and  moral  condition  of 
these  poor,  ignorant  and  superstitious  negroes,  or  they 


Complications.  187 

will  relapse  into  barbarism.  They  have  begun  already  a 
retrograde  movement,  and,  if  left  to  themselves,  as  they 
seem  to  wish,  there  will  not  many  years  elapse  before 
they  are  really  savage  in  their  worship,"  said  Evelyn, 
with  deep  earnestness. 

"I  feel  as  deeply  as  yon  can  possibly  feel  on  that  sub 
ject,"  he  replied;  "and  have  often  planned  some  good 
things  that  might  be  done  for  the  coming  generation, 
but  I  have  always  lacked  the  means  to  carry  them  into 
execution,  and  being  too  proud  to  beg  of  the  North  for 
the  means  to  help  my  own  people,  I  have  never  been 
able  to  put  any  of  my  phil- African  plans  into  practice." 
And  the  proud  face  looked  haughtier  and  harder  than 
Evelyn  had  ever  seen  it,  as  he  continued: 

"There  has  been  much  money  spent  injudiciously  in 
the  South  since  the  emancipation  of  the  negro,  that,  put 
into  proper  hands,  might  have  been  productive  of  much 
good.  I  do  not  doubt  that  in  time  these  things  will  ad 
just  themselves;  but  now  these  problems  are  puzzling 
older  and  wiser  heads,  perhaps,  than  ours,  young  and 
inexperienced  as  we  are." 

"I  have  thought  so  much  about  it,  and  the  question 
is  vexing  me  still.  It  comes  to  me  in  the  form  of  a 
taunt  from  the  devil  himself  in  words  like  these:  'You 
are  not  willing  to  teach  them  yourself.  You  live  among 
them,  and  yourself  scorn  such  a  degraded  race,  and  are 
not  willing  to  sacrifice  social  position  and  loss  of  friends 
to  go  among  them  as  Jesus  would  have  you  do,  as  a 
professed  follower  of  Him,'  until  I  have  sometimes  felt 
that  I  would  give  up  every  hope  in  life  to  escape  the  re- 


1 88  Under  the  Magnolias. 

preaches  of  my  conscience/'  said  the  poor  girl,  with 
intense  emotion,  her  face  as  colorless  as  marble. 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for  the  confidence  you  have 
placed  in  me,  and  trust  I  shall  not  disappoint  you  in 
arriving  at  a  solution  of  this  difficult  problem.  But  you 
must  promise  me  that  you  will  never  again  think  of  such 
a  chimera  as  turning  teacher  of  the  negroes  yourself.  I 
would  rather  die  than  see  you  immolate  yourself  upon 
such  an  altar  as  that.  Believe  me,  your  honor  and 
dignity  of  character  are  dearer  to  me  than  life."  The 
young  man  was  deeply  moved  as  he  bent  nearer  the 
trembling  girl  and  almost  whispered : 

"Evelyn " 

Here  the  door  opened  unceremoniously,  and  Mr.  Mel 
ton  came  into  the  room  with  several  letters  in  his  hand, 
and  the  passionate  speech  was  cut  short  ere  the  words 
were  spoken  and  answered  that  would,  perhaps,  have 
saved  them  so  much  misunderstanding  in  the  days  that 
followed ;  but  Kismet  had  intervened,  and,  ere  they  met 
again,  the  veil  of  mistrust  and  jealousy  had  fallen 
between  them. 

When  Mr.  Melton  so  unceremoniously  entered  the 
room,  the  Doctor  had  sprung  to  his  feet  and  listened  in 
a  vague  way  to  his  apologies  for  so  doing.  "Did  not 
know  that  Evelyn  had  any  company  at  all;  but  would 
Doctor  Laurie  take  his  seat  again ;  he  thought  there  was 
a  letter  from  one  of  Evelyn's  Northern  friends  saying 
what  day  he  would  arrive  in  the  Brierwood  neighbor 
hood." 

"I  will  be  glad,  Doctor,  if  you  will  help  us  entertain 
young  Willingham  in  such  a  way  as  would  give  him  a 


Complications.  189 

good  impression  of  the  country,  and  I  know  that  you, 
better  than  anyone  else  here,  know  how  to  do  that  sort 
of  thing/'  said  Mr.  Melton,  as  he  grew  eloquent  in 
dilating  on  his  wish  that  the  South  might  be  seen  by 
this  Bostonian  in  its  best  dress  of  hospitality. 

Evelyn's  face  was  a  study,  and  baffled  Laurie's  keen 
est  glances,  as  she  opened  and  read,  at  her  father's  re 
quest,  the  letter  to  herself  from  Mr.  Willingham.  She 
said,  as  she  folded  it,  calmly : 

"Yes;  Mr.  Willingham  will  reach  here  some  time  in 
the  afternoon  of  to-morrow,  I  suppose." 

Why  had  not  Evelyn  told  even  Fannie  of  this?  She 
was  evidently  expecting  him,  and  yet  had  kept  it  a 
profound  secret  from  them  all.  Laurie  rose  to  go,  as  he 
said,  haughtily: 

"I  will  certainly  exert  myself  to  render  Mr.  Willing- 
ham's  stay  in  the  country  as  pleasant  as  possible.  Where 
will  he  make  his  headquarters  while  in  the  neighbor 
hood?" 

"He  will  spend  the  greater  portion  of  his  time  with 
Mr.  Bliss,"  replied  Evelyn. 

"Miss  Evelyn,  I  will  see  you  again  on  the  subject  we 
were  discussing  this  evening,"  and,  without  even  taking 
the  little  hand  in  farewell,  as  he  had  always  done,  giv 
ing  it  a  warm  pressure,  while  his  eyes  spoke  a  tender 
good-bye,  he  bowed  himself  out  and  soon  Evelyn  heard 
the  rapid  footfalls  of  iron  hoofs  as  Forrest's  feet  struck 
the  earth  in  a  fast  gallop  down  the  road,  and  she 
shivered. 

When  he  reached  the  sitting-room  at  home  he  found 
his  mother  and  sisters  awaiting  him.  They  instantly 


190  Under  the  Magnolias. 

noted  the  dark  cloud  on  his  usually  bright  face,  and 
that  made  Fannie  think  of  something  that,  strange  to 
say,  she  had  entirely  forgotten  to  tell  them. 

"Laurie,  I  have  forgotten  to  tell  you  what  I  heard 
yesterday  from  Mrs.  Bliss — that  a  young  man,  a  Mr. 
Willingham,  is  coming  to  see  Evelyn.  Will  be  here  in 
a  few  days,  and  is  a  lover  of  Evelyn's,  or  a  friend,  per 
haps.  He  is  a  graduate  of  Yale,  and  is  very  wealthy 
and  handsome,  too.  Of  course,  he  is  a  lover  of  hers,  or 
he  would  not  come  so  far  to  see  her/'  Fannie  talked 
fast,  pretending  that  she  did  not  see  the  pallor  on 
Laurie's  face,  or  that  she  had  not  noticed  the  utterly 
commentless  silence  that  he  kept  during  the  remainder 
of  the  evening,  and  he  retired  earlier  than  usual.  After 
he  had  kissed  them  good-night  and  was  shut  up  in  his 
room,  Fannie  exclaimed,  petulantly: 

"I  do  wish  Mr.  Willingham  had  never  thought  of 
coming  down  here  to  see  Evelyn.  I  am  afraid  she 
prefers  him  to  Laurie,  and  I  would  just  hate  a  Yankee 
that  could  be  a  successful  rival  of  my  darling  Laurie's, 
wouldn't  you,  mother?" 

"No,  my  love ;  I  trust  I  shall  never  hate  anyone,  and 
if  the  young  woman's  heart  and  hand  can  be  purchased 
with  gold,  she  is  not  worthy  of  my  son;  and  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  she  loves  his  rival,  I  think  the  quicker 
Laurie  knows  it  the  better  it  will  be  for  him.  He  is  a 
man  of  strong  character,  and  will  bear  it  as  a  Christian 
and  a  gentleman,"  responded  Laurie's  mother,  but 
Fannie  heard  the  sigh  that  would  come. 

"Well,  I  believe  that  Evelyn  will  prefer  Laurie  to 
anyone  else,  and  I  shall  continue  to  have  that  opinion 


Complications.  191 

until  I  see  differently/'  said  Fannie,  half  indignantly. 
"Oh,  dear,"  sighed  poor,  bright,  loving,  little  Fan 
nie  ;  "the  world  will  get  crosswise  and  all  out  of  shape 
generally.  Mamma,  dear,  I've  got  the  blues,  so  I'll  sit 
in  your  lap  and  let  you  pet  me  into  a  good  humor,"  as 
she  threw  her  arms  around  that  loving  mother's  neck 
and  half  reclined  in  her  lap. 


1 92  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 

A   CONFESSION. 

"Out,  damned  spot!  out,  I  say!— One;  Two: 

Why  then  'tis  time  to  do't:     Hell  is  murky! — 

Fie,  my  lord,  fie!  a  soldier,  aud  afeard! — 

What  need  we  fear  who  knows  it,  when   none  can   call   our 

power  to  account, 
Yet  who  would  have  thought  the  old  man  to  have  had  so  much 

blood  in  him!" — "Macbeth." 

THE  next  morning,  when  Laurie  Montgomery 
awakened,  it  was  to  find  a  dark  curtain  of  cloud  drawn 
across  the  sunny  skies  of  yesterday,  and  a  dull  mist  of 
rain  falling.  As  he  opened  the  hlinds  and  looked  out, 
his  first  thought  was  that  not  more  suddenly  had  a  veil 
of  darkness  fallen  across  his  own  sky,  which  he  now, 
by  unreasoning  jealousy  and  illogical  argument,  re 
duced  to  the  blackness  of  despair.  It  would  he  im 
possible  to  describe  the  conflicting  emotions  that  filled 
his  mind,  as  he  again  reviewed,  hy  the  light  of  day,  the 
new  page  that  he  had  just  turned  in  the  book  of  his 
life's  history. 

Why  had  Evelyn  kept  so  carefully  from  him  this 
visit  of  her  Northern  suitor  ?  It  was  singular,  strangely 
singular,  that  she  had  not  even  told  Fannie  of  his 
coming.  As  he  looked  back  over  their  intercourse  from 


A  Confession. 

the  beginning,  and  lingered  tenderly  over  every  soft 
look  or  gently  spoken  sentence  that  he  had  fondly  hoped 
meant  so  much  more  than  mere  friendship  for  him,  he 
was  plunged  in  deeper  gloom. 

He  could  scarcely  believe  that  Evelyn  was  one  of 
those  naturally  coquettish  girls,  who,  all  unwittingly, 
draw  a  man  on  to  love  her,  and  when  too  late,  wake  up 
to  find  that  they  have  been  the  cause  of  wreck  to  a 
man's  happiness.  What,  though,  if  it  were  true  that 
this  Northern  lover,  and  not  himself,  held  the  key  to 
Evelyn's  affections  ?  He  asked  the  question,  then  strove 
to  evade  it,  as  we  will  do  when  called  upon  to  face  an 
issue,  that,  if  answered  in  the  affirmative,  will  entail 
great  suffering  upon  us.  That  Evelyn  knew  he  loved 
her  he  could  not  doubt,  even  without  the  addition  of 
that  last,  half  uttered,  passionate  declaration. 

After  vainly  seeking  for  a  solution  to  the  vexing 
problem  amid  past  experience,  he  summoned  pride,  that 
bulwark  of  jealousy,  to  his  aid,  and  soon  afterward  went 
down  to  breakfast  calm  and  collected. 

No  one  seemed  to  have  much  desire  for  conversation 
that  dull,  rainy  morning.  Laurie  drank  his  coffee,  ate 
a  few  bites  of  bread,  and  left,  saying: 

"Very  probably  I  shall  not  return  until  to-morrow, 
mother.  I  have  a  patient  over  the  bayou  who  is  very 
ill  with  pneumonia."  Then,  kissing  them  affection 
ately,  he  donned  his  mackintosh  and  went  out  in  the  mud 
and  the  rain,  which  was  increasing  in  violence  every 
moment. 

As  Laurie  rode  on  through  the  incessant  rain,  his 
mind  reverted  to  the  past  and  the  mysterious  disap- 


194  Under  the  Magnolias. 

pearance  of  Lieutenant  Barclay.  He  thought  bitterly 
of  the  murdered  man ;  of  the  brilliant  qualities  of  mind 
and  person  that  made  him  so  attractive  to  every  one, 
and,  above  all,  of  the  blighted  life  of  his  beloved  cousin. 
There  came  into  his  mind  as  he  pondered  the  old  Greek 
aphorism,  "The  mill  of  the  gods  grinds  slow,  but  fine," 
a  proverb  which  has  its  parallel  in  that  text  of  Holy 
Writ,  "Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,  saith  the 
Lord,"  and  the  idea  comforted  him. 

While  he  rode  forward,  the  sky  grew  darker  and  the 
rain  poured  in  torrents  so  that  he  could  scarcely  see  a 
dozen  yards  away,  or  hear  the  tramp  of  a  horse,  as  a 
man  riding  rapidly  from  the  opposite  direction  nar 
rowly  escaped  coming  in  collision  with  him. 

"Hello!"  shouted  half-witted  Jack  Tillman,  as  he 
reined  his  horse  so  shortly  that  he  settled  on  his 
haunches,  as  he  whirled  out  of  the  way  of  the  Doctor's 
heavier  horse.  Laurie  checked  his  steed  as  he  ex 
changed  salutation  with  the  man. 

"You's  the  very  man  I'm  huntin'  fur,  Doc,  an'  I'm 
sho'  glad  I  won't  have  ter  ride  no  furder  in  this  devilish 
rain.  Hit  sho'  hain't  agree'ble  ridin',  but  I  reckin  you'll 
be  willin'  ter  go  with  me,  seein'  hits  your  business  ter 
go  wen  you's  sent  fur,  though  the'  hain't  no  perticilar 
pay  in  hit,  as  I  knows  on,"  yelled  Jack,  as  the  rain 
poured  faster. 

"Where  do  you  wish  me  to  go?"  demanded  the  Doc 
tor. 

"Jest  er  matter  ov  five  mile  out  ter  the  cabin,  so  ef 
you'll  go  jes'  mosy  'long  atter  me,  'cause  wen  folks  is  a 
dyin'  they's  gin'ruly  in  a  sort  ov  hurry  fur  er  doctor," 


A  Confession,  195 

and  the  man  struck  out  through  the  forest  at  a  gallop, 
Laurie  keeping  beside  him. 

After  riding  for  several  hours  through  a  drenching 
rain,  the  lowliest  shelter  looks  inviting,  and  Laurie  ex 
perienced  a  feeling  of  relief  as  they  emerged  from  the 
dense  thicket  of  pines,  through  which  they  had  ridden 
for  the  last  quarter  of  a  mile,  into  a  small  clearing  with 
a  log  cabin  in  the  centre.  They  dismounted  in  front, 
and  Jack  remarked,  sullenly: 

"Gimme  your  creeter  an'  I'll  put  'im  under  a  shed 
roun'  yander,  so's  your  saddle  c'n  drip  off  a  leetle  afore 
you  gets  ready  ter  start  off.  As  fur  me,  I'm  sho'  gwine 
ter  git  in  the  lof  an'  sleep  sum  whilst  you  an'  him  is 
talkin',  fur  he  nuver  lemme  sleep  er  wink  las'  night. 
The'  hain't  no  time  fur  lickin'  spoons  wid  me  now,  I  c'n 
tell  you,  Doc,"  and  he  led  the  horses  away  to  a  shed  at 
the  back  of  the  cabin. 

Laurie  knocked  loudly  at  the  door ;  waited  a  moment, 
and  knocked  again;  this  time  he  received  the  courteous 
answer : 

"What  in  the  name  of  the  devil  are  you  making  such 
a  racket  for,  boy.  Why  don't  you  come  in  without  so 
much  infernal  noise?  If  I  was  only  myself  once  more 
I  would  teach  you  how  to  disturb  me  so,  you  true  son 
of  Pluto/' 

Laurie  replied  by  pushing  open  the  heavy  door  and 
entering  the  squalid  apartment.  Everything  in  the 
open  log  cabin  betokened  misery  and  the  direst  poverty. 
The  only  pleasing  feature  was  the  bright  pine  fire  which 
burned  on  the  wide  hearth. 

On  the  rough,  dirty  bed  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 


196  Under  the  Magnolias. 

lay  a  man  of  middle  age.  He  was  apparently  in  the 
last  stage  of  some  direful  disease,  for  his  face  was  wan 
and  pinched,  while  his  large  eyes  gleamed  with  preter 
natural  brilliancy,  and  his  thin  lips  were  drawn  tightly 
over  a  set  of  very  white  teeth.  Every  movement  of  his 
attenuated  body  caused  a  moan  of  pain,  which  he  vainly 
endeavored  to  suppress  as  evidencing  unmanly  weakness. 

Laurie  took  off  his  dripping  raincoat  and  hat,  and 
hung  them  on  the  wall,  then,  going  to  the  bedside  of 
the  sick  man,  he  inquired  in  a  gentle  tone: 

"What  seems  to  be  the  trouble  with  you,  my  friend  ?" 

"Don't  you  dare  to  call  me  'friend/  for  I  won't  stand 
it.  You  will  wish  to  call  for  a  gun  when  you  have 
listened  to  the  story  which  I  have  to  tell  you ;  however, 
I  owe  you  an  apology  for  my  unintentional  rudeness  in 
answering  your  knock  at  the  door.  I  was  quite  certain 
that  it  was  my  Sancho  Panza,  whom  I  sent  after  you 
hours  and  hours  ago,  but  who  takes  advantage  of  my 
illness  to  do  just  as  he  pleases.  In  fact,  I  often  feel 
tempted  to  end  his  life  with  this  faithful  friend  of 
mine,"  and  the  thin  hand  went  to  the  back  of  his  pil 
low  and  grasped  a  Colt's  revolver ;  "  but  I  know  that  he 
is  the  only  nurse,  valet,  friend,  or  by  whatever  name 
you  choose  to  designate  him,  that  I  have  on  earth,  and 
thus  I  am  rendered  helpless,"  and  he  moaned  as  the 
nerveless  hand  fell  on  the  dirty  coverlet. 

A  violent  fit  of  coughing  followed  this  outburst  of 
temper,  and  the  Doctor  quickly  prepared  a  soothing 
potion  and  insisted  on  his  swallowing  it.  He  did  so 
with  an  oath,  and  waved  his  hand  toward  the  only  chair 
which  the  room  contained,  as  he  continued: 


A  Confession.  197 

"You  will  not  be  willing  to  relieve  a  pang  of  what  I 
am  suffering  when  I  disclose  to  you  that  portion  of  my 
life  which  concerns  you,  or  rather,  those  whom  you 
loved  in  the  bygone  years." 

Laurie  started,  and  looked  keenly  at  the  stranger, 
but  he  replied  kindly : 

"Yes ;  you  are  suffering  and  dying,  and  it  is  my  duty 
to  relieve,  if  possible  to  do  so,  even  the  worst  enemy  I 
have  on  earth.  As  a  Christian  I  am  taught  to  forgive 
those  who  have  injured  me.  But  go  on  now,  I  think 
you  will  be  quiet  for  awhile,  at  least."  And  the  young 
doctor  seated  himself  and  waited  for  the  dying  man  to 
begin  his  mysterious  story. 

"You  remember  that  d — d  Yankee  who  came  up 
missing  some  years  ago?" 

Laurie's  face  turned  a  shade  paler,  and  he  com 
pressed  his  lips  with  grim  determination  as  he  listened 
to  the  villian's  recital. 

He  went  on  slowly,  for  his  voice  was  weak  and 
hoarse:  "You  remember  Lieutenant  Barclay,  of  the 
New  York  Seventy-first?  Of  course,  you  could  never 
forget  him  while  you  live,  and  neither  can  I,  for  'twas 
my  hand  that  shed  his  blod,  and  in  murdering  him  I 
killed  the  beautiful  woman  whom  I  loved  better  than 
aught  else  on  earth.  I  was  desperate,  Montgomery; 
and  a  desperate  man  knows  neither  reason  nor  mercy. 

"I  was  an  outlaw  by  my  country's  laws.  A  beast, 
with  a  price  set  on  my  scalp  in  mine  own  State.  For 
doing  what?  For  killing  a  brute  who  dared  to  insult 
me  because  he  was  my  superior  in  command.  In  hot 
blood  I  shot  him  as  I  would  a  dog,  and  thenceforth  I 


198  Under  the  Magnolias. 

fled,  a  fugitive  from  military  justice,  or  rather,  injus 
tice,  I  should  say;  for  who  ever  heard  of  an  inferior 
officer  getting  any  show  of  right  before  his  superiors 
when  insubordination  was  the  casus  belli?" 

"I  got  beyond  the  army  lines  and  left  the  State.  I 
traveled  by  night  and  secreted  myself  in  the  woods 
through  the  day  and  lived  chiefly  on  nuts  and  wild 
fruit,  of  which  there  was  a  good  crop  that  year.  I  man 
aged  to  exchange  my  officer's  uniform  for  a  suit  of 
brown  jeans.  Thus  I  escaped  arrest  until  I  reached 
Arkansas,  where  I  fell  in  with  two  deserters,  who  were 
trying  to  make  their  way  back  to  Winn  Parish,  in 
Louisiana.  They  seemed  delighted  to  meet  me  and 
promised  me  official  position  and  unlimited  freedom 
amid  the  wild  forests  and  impenetrable  swamps  of  the 
Tree  State  of  Winn/  I  was  not  in  a  condition  to 
choose  my  lot  in  life  just  now,  so  yielded  and  cast  in 
my  life  with  the  robber  band,  which  I  served  as  captain 
for  more  than  ten  years. 

"But  I  must  hasten,  for  the  sands  are  running  very 
low  in  my  frail  hour  glass,  and  memory  grows  dim  as 
I  go  bacK  over  the  past.  I  feel  very  weak,  Doctor,  and 
will  thank  you  very  much  if  you  will  open  that  cup 
board  in  the  corner  and  pour  me  out  some  brandy  from 
that  bottle  sitting  there.  I  should  have  offered  you 
a  drink  when  you  came  in  from  that  drenching  rain, 
but  entirely  forgot  that  courtesy,  for  which  I  beg  you 
will  excuse  me,"  he  remarked,  as  he  drank  the  brandy 
with  feverish  avidity. 

"Thank  you;  I  never  drink  anything  of  the  sort," 


A  Confession. 

replied  Laurie,  as  he  resumed  his  seat  by  the  bedside 
of  the  sick  man. 

"The  first  time  I  met  Miss  Montgomery  I  was  rid 
ing  rapidly,  as  I  always  did,  on  the  public  road  that 
runs  in  front  of  The  Magnolias  when  I  turned  a  bend 
in  the  thicket  below  the  house,  and  met  your  cousin, 
who  was  also  riding  quite  fast.  Her  horse  swerved  and 
broke  his  girth,  throwing  Miss  Montgomery  to_  the 
ground.  She  was  up  before  I  could  reach  her,  quick  as 
I  was,  and  stood  there,  blushing,  and  looking  as  beauti 
ful  as  a  goddess.  I  apologized  for  my  careless  riding, 
taking  all  the  blame  to  myself  for  her  fall.  She  lifted 
her  exquisite  eyes  to  mine,  and  in  a  voice  that  sounded 
like  heavenly  music  to  my  ears,  famishing  as  they  were 
for  the  sound  of  a  lady's  cultured  tones,  said  that  it 
was  all  her  own  fault,  as  her  uncle  had  warned  her  of 
the  danger  afjiding  fast  around  a  bend.  As  I  looked  at 
the  lovely  creature  my  heart  was  torn  from  my  bosom 
and  laid  a  willing  oblation  at  her  feet.  I  could  not, 
in  that  extreme  moment,  pause  to  consider  what  it 
might  bring  to  either  of  us.  I  only  knew  myself  to  be 
shaken  with  a  passion  that  an  hour  before  I  would  have 
sworn  I  was  incapable  of  feeling. 

"I  mended  her  saddle  girth  and  placing  her  on  the 
pony,  watched  her  ride  out  of  my  sight.  After  that  I 
often  came  by  hoping  to  get  even  a  momentary  view  of 
the  woman  I  worshiped  as  my  God.  But  what  was  I,  to 
hope  that  I  could  win  the  love  of  that  pure  darling?  I. 
an  outlaw,  whose  hands  had  been  stained  more  than 
once  with  the  blood  of  my  fellow  man.  Had  I  met 
Mamie  Montgomery  before  I  fell  on  evil  times,  I  would 


2OO  Under  the  Magnolias. 

have  been  saved,  for  she  could  have  moulded  me  to  her 
will,  I  believe;  but  it  was  too  late,  and  the  more  I 
realized  the  impossibility  of  winning  her,  the  more 
wildly  I  loved  her,  until  it  became  the  one  consuming 
passion  of  my  life.  In  my  despair  I  registered  a  vow 
that  if  I  could  not  win  her,  no  other  man  should.  How 
sacredly  I  kept  that  vow  you  will  soon  hear. 

"One  day,  as  I  was  lingering  in  the  hollow  where  I 
had  first  met  my  darling,  and  living  over  again  in 
memory  the  delicious  thrills  of  happiness  that  shook 
my  being  as  my  hands  touched  hers  in  assisting  her  to 
mount  her  horse,  I  looked  toward  the  house  and  saw  a 
horse  standing  at  the  lawn  gate.  I  soon  saw  that  it  was 
not  standing  alone,  but  the  bridle  was  lightly  held  over 
the  arm  of  a  Federal  officer,  and  that  Mamie  Mont 
gomery  was  standing  near  him.  So  deeply  absorbed 
were  they  in  each  other  that  they  had  neither  ears  nor 
eyes  for  me,  and  I  stood  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
them,  unseen  and  unheard.  Perhaps  it  was  dishonor 
able  in  me  to  stand  thus,  a  spy  upon  the  woman  I 
loveo!  better  far  than  I  did  my  miserable,  ruined  life. 
I  cared  not  for  that,  but  I  desired  above  all  things  to 
have  revenge  on  my  rival — the  Yankee,  whose  uniform 
and  flag  I  hated  more  than  words  could  express. 

"I  stood  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot,  with  my  brain 
whirling  like  a  madman's,  as  he  took  Mamie  in  his 
arms  and  kissed  her  tenderly  in  farewell,  then  turned 
to  mount  his  horse;  but  seeing  her  handkerchief  fall, 
he  returned,  picked  it  up,  and  kissing  it,  put  it  in  his 
pocket,  just  over  his  heart. 

"I  realized  from  what  I  had  seen  that  they  were 


A  Confession.  201 

engaged  lovers,  and  my  agony  knew  no  bounds.  I 
planned  quickly  what  I  would  do.  I  knew  a  short  cut 
through  the  bayou  and  knew  that  I  could  intercept 
him  on  his  route  and  there  settle  with  him.  I  did  not 
mean  to  murder  him,  for  the  gentlemanly  instinct  as 
serted  itself  within  me.  No,  I  would  give  him  a  chance 
for  one  shot  at  me,  as  man  should  meet  man.  That  was 
not  the  creed  of  the  band  of  robbers,  but  this  was  a 
different  thing.  For  the  sake  of  the  noble  woman  who 
loved  him,  he  should  have  given  him  one  chance  for 
the  life  that  was  so  sweet  to  him. 

"I  went  by  my  headquarters  and  took  my  trusty 
valet,  as  I  usied,  facetiously,  to  call  that  vagabond  Jack, 
and  riding  fast  arrived  at  the  Yankee  Spring,  as  you 
know  it  is  named  to  this  day,  in  time  to  secrete  myself 
securely  ere  my  rival  came  into  view.  I  was  not  wrong 
in  supposing  that  he  would  choose  this  route,  for  in 
about  an  hour  I  heard  the  steady  tramp  of  a  horse,  and 
soon  Lieutenant  Barclay,  for  I  learned  afterward  that 
it  was  he,  came  into  view.  My  pulses  beat  fast  with 
hate  and  desire  for  summary  revenge  as  the  young 
officer  rode  out  to  the  spring  and,  dismounting,  took 
out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from 
his  fair  forehead.  Then  he  drew  the  little  lace  trimmed 
amulet  from  its  hiding  place  and  kissed  it  fervently 
and  smiled,  as  he  seemed  to  remember  the  sweeter  kiss 
which  he  had  had  from  her  own  lovely  red  lips.  His 
picture  is  deeply  engraved  on  my  memory  as  he  stood 
thus,  with  that  smile  on  his  face.  Every  effort  I  have 
made  to  efface  it  from  my  mind  has  been  in  vain.  It 
has  haunted  my  sleepless  hours  and  driven  me  to  deeds 


2O2  Under  the  Magnolias. 

of  desperation.  I  think  when  we  meet  in  hell  I  will 
surely  recognize  him,  if  he  does  not  me,"  and  the  man 
paused,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  thin  hands,  as 
Laurie  replied  gently: 

"You  will  not  meet  him  there,  for  he  was  a  soldier 
of  Jesus  Christ,  even  as  he  was  an  officer  of  the  army 
of  his  country." 

When  he  took  his  hands  away  from  his  face  it  was 
so  ghastly  that  Laurie  thought  the  poor  murderer's  last 
moment  had  come,  but  he  mastered  himself  by  a  great 
effort  and  resumed  his  narrative. 

"When  I  remembered  that  kiss,  for  one  of  which  I 
would  have  willingly  served  a  thousand  years  in  hell, 
my  blood  seemed  set  on  fire  by  the  devil. 

"I  rose  to  my  feet  and  controlled  myself  to  say  dis 
tinctly:  'Defend  yourself,  sir,  for  a  foe  is  before  you,' 
as  I  leveled  my  gun  and  prepared  to  shoot. 

"He  was  as  prompt  as  I  could  desire,  and  had  his 
revolver  on  me  before  I  could  think  he  was  half  ready. 
I  do  not  know  who  got  the  first  shot,  but  I  saw  him 
fall  heavily  to  the  ground  ere  I  could  command  my 
thoughts  sufficiently  to  realize  that  I  had  received  a 
ball  in  the  breast  which  was  likely  to  prove  quite 
troublesome.  However,  I  did  not  stop  to  consider  my 
own  wounds  just  then,  but  went  over  to  where  he  lay 
and  felt  for  his  heart.  The  blood  was  gushing  through 
a  hole  just  above  it.  I  had  made  a  beautiful  shot.  I 
had  never  held  a  steadier  hand. 

"As  I  looked  at  him  lying  there  I  thought  him  a 
worthy  foe  for  any  antagonist.  The  smile,  kindled  by 


A  Confession.  203 

the  deathless  love  of  a  beautiful  woman,  still  lingered 
on  the  dead  face. 

"We  had  now  to  dispose  of  the  body  of  Lieutenant 
Barclay,  and  a  troublesome  job  it  proved  to  be.  The 
pain  from  my  wound  was  excessive,  and  the  loss  of 
blood  made  me  so  weak  that  I  could  not  render  much 
assistance  to  Jack.  But  you  know  he  is  a  giant,  and 
to  him  I  left  most  of  the  work,  while  I  lay  on  the 
grass  and  gave  directions.  We  fastened  the  soldier  to 
his  horse  and  leading  the  fine  animal  into  the  deepest 
pool  in  the  bayou,  I  shot  him  with  my  Winchester  rifle. 
After  a  few  convulsive  efforts  to  swim  he  sank  to  rise  no 
more. 

"As  soon  as  I  found  that  Lieutenant  Barclay  was 
dead,  I  took  the  little  handkerchief  which  he  had 
hastily  thrust  into  its  hiding  place  when  called  on  to 
defend  himself,  and  with  it  came  a  letter  subscribed 
with  the  name  we  both  had  loved  so  well.  I  took  them 
and,  dipping  them  in  the  blood  which  was  flowing  from 
the  heart  of  the  dead  man,  I  wrapped  them  in  a  piece 
of  paper  and  put  them  in  my  pocket.  Jack,  in  en 
deavoring  to  save  a  memento  of  the  gruesome  work,  cut 
off  a  button  from  the  officer's  coat  and  then  lost  it,  for 
which  piece  of  carelessness  he  got  a  most  unmerciful 
flogging  that  night. 

"That  wound  in  my  chest  is  the  cause  of  my  death. 
The  bullet  has  never  been  extracted  and  has  been  the 
source  of  a  great  deal  of  pain  to  me  every  day  of  my 
life  since  then. 

"Here  is  the  ring  that  Jack  took  from  the  finger  of 
the  dead  man/'  and  he  handed  Laurie  the  peculiar  ring 


2O4  Under  the  Magnolias. 

which  he  had  noticed  on  the  Lieutenant's  finger  that 
last  day  he  had  dined  with  him. 

"I  was  undecided  what  to  do  with  the  watch.  It  was 
such  an  infernal  bother  to  me  that  I  could  not  endure 
it  long.  I  used  to  hang  it  on  the  wall  beside  my  own, 
and  I  could  distinctly  tell  its  peculiar  beat,  as  of  the 
quickened  pulsations  of  a  man's  heart.  One  day,  as  I 
was  riding  by  a  great  log  heap  that  looked  like  a  fur 
nace,  I  threw  the  watch  into  the  midst  of  the  red  hot 
coals,  and  cursing  it,  I  bade  it  burn,  as  I  expected  to 
be  burned  some  day  in  the  furnaces  of  hell. 

"After  we  had  disposed  of  the  dead  man  and  his 
effects,  I  mounted  my  horse  and  rode  over  to  your 
house,  which  I  reached  just  as  the  day  began  to  break, 
and  placing  the  bloody  letter  and  handkerchief  on  the 
gate-post  of  the  flower  garden,  I  rode  away  the  most 
miserable  man  God  Almighty  ever  created.  But  I 
never  dreamed,  even  most  remotely,  that  it  would  prove 
the  death  of  the  pure,  angelic  woman  whom  I  loved  so 
tenderly,  so  passionately.  When,  a  few  weeks  later,  I 
heard  of  her  death,  I  would  have  speedily  have  ended 
my  worthless  life  with  a  pistol  shot  had  it  not  been  for 
that  conscience  which  makes  cowards  of  the  bravest 
men.  I  know  that  the  devil  and  his  angels  are  heating 
the  furnaces  of  hell  seven  times  seven  for  my  soul,  for 
since  Mamie  Montgomery's  death  I  have  thrown  my 
self  into  every  conceivable  sin.  I  have  cared  for  neither 
God  nor  man,  nor  anything  on  earth.  I  feel  the  cold 
fingers  of  grim  Death  clutching  at  my  throat,"  he  ex 
claimed,  as  he  looked  wildly,  imploringly  at  the  doctor. 
A  violent  fit  of  coughing  came  on,  in  which  a  blood 


A  Confession,  205 

vessel  was  broken,  and  quick  strangulation  ensued.   He 
lay  before  Laurie  Montgomery  a  dead  man. 

As  Laurie  left  the  cabin  he  murmured  softly,  Venge 
ance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord." 


2o6  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

ESTRANGEMENT. 

"Wherever  sorrow  is,  relief  would  be: 
If  you  do  sorrow  at  my  grief  in  love, 

By   giving   love,    your   sorrow   and   my   grief   were   both    ex- 
termined."— "As  You  Like  It." 

FULL  of  conflicting  emotions,  Laurie  Montgomery  left 
the  hut  of  the  murderer.  The  rain  had  ceased  and  the 
air  felt  cool  and  refreshing  after  the  stifling  atmos 
phere  of  the  cabin.  He  went  to  the  shed  where  Jack 
had  sheltered  the  horses,  and,  waking  the  stupid  fellow, 
ordered  him  to  go  for  help  to  bury  the  dead  man.  He 
then  caught  his  horse  and  hurried  away  from  the  miser 
able  house  and  its  depressing  influences. 

When  he  reached  the  bedside  of  his  patient  it  was  so 
late  and  the  man  so  ill  that  he  decided  to  remain  for 
the  night. 

The  next  morning  his  father  came  early,  and  after  a 
consultation  was  held,  it  was  decided  that  Laurie  would 
return  home  and  leave  the  elder  Doctor  to  watch  the 
case. 

"Mr.  Bliss  sent  for  you  last  night,  Laurie,  to  see  your 
little  namesake.  He  has  whooping  cough,  I  think,  and 
as  he  is  teething,  I  fear  it  will  go  hard  with  Elm.  You 


Estrangement.  207 

had  better  go  by  there  and  see  him.  I  met  a  young  man 
there  from  the  North,  a  lover,  I  believe,  of  Miss  Mel 
ton's.  Quite  an  elegant  gentleman,  he  appears  to  be." 
Then,  as  noticing  for  the  first  time  Laurie's  pale  face, 
he  added: 

"Try  to  sleep  some  to-night,  son;  you  are  looking 
rather  pale.  Are  you  quite  well?" 

"Yes,  sir ;  quite  well ;  but  I  have  been  through  a  try 
ing  ordeal  in  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  I  will  tell  you 
all  when  I  return  home,  father,"  he  responded,  in  a 
low  tone. 

"Don't  forget  the  Bliss  baby,  Laurie,"  his  father 
cautioned,  as  the  latter  rode  away. 

"I  will  go  there  by  all  means.  I  would  not  neglect 
my  little  pet  for  any  consideration,"  said  Laurie,  affect 
ing  an  unconcern  he  did  not  feel. 

After  a  ride  in  the  bracing  March  wind,  for  the 
weather  had  turned  off  fair  and  cool,  he  arrived  at  the 
Bliss  farm  just  as  the  proprietor  and  his  guest  rode  up 
with  a  large  antlered  buck  which  the  latter  had  been 
so  furtunate  as  to  kill  on  his  first  hunt. 

"Ah!  Doctor;  you  have  come  in  good  time  to  help 
us  eat  this  fine  fat  venison,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bliss,  with 
hearty  cordiality. 

"Let  me  introduce  Mr.  Willingham,  of  Boston, 
Doctor  Montgomery,"  he  added,  as  turning  to  that 
gentleman,  he  remarked : 

"This  is  the  young  Doctor  I  mentioned  to  you  last 
night,  Mr.  Willingham." 

As  the  rivals  shook  hands  they  made  a  quick  mental 
summary  of  each  other. 


208  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Laurie's  verdict  was  that  he  had  a  formidable  an 
tagonist  in  the  field. 

Mr.  Bliss  invited  them  into  the  house,  while  Laurie 
explained  that  he  had  only  called  to  see  the  baby,  who, 
his  father  had  told  him,  was  ill  with  whooping  cough. 
Mr.  Willingham  repaired  to  his  room  to  change  his 
dress,  and  Laurie  went  to  the  chamber  of  the  sick  child, 
where  he  remained  some  time  in  consultation  with  the 
anxious  mother. 

Then  followed  a  romp  with  the  little  girls,  with 
whom  the  Doctor  was  a  great  favorite.  When  he  came 
out  on  the  gallery  where  the  men  were  sitting  smoking 
he  found  that  Mr.  Bliss  had  had  his  horse  put  up  and 
insisted  so  earnestly  on  his  dining  with  them,  that  he 
could  but  stay. 

Ere  he  left  he  concluded  that  Mr.  Willingham  was 
a  very  pleasant  fellow,  with  little  or  none  of  the  osten 
tation  usually  attributed  to  the  majority  of  rich  men 
from  the  North. 

The  hour  before  dinner  was  very  pleasantly  spent, 
and  Laurie,  on  leaving,  extended  a  cordial  invitation  to 
Mr.  Willingham  to  visit  them  at  their  home. 

"I  think  Miss  Melton  is  planning  for  us  to  spend 
the  evening  there,  if  I  am  not  mistaken.  She  said  The 
Magnolias.  Isn't  that  the  name  of  your  home?"  asked 
Arthur  Willingham. 

"Yes,  that  is  it;  and  I  am  sorry  I  shall  not  be  able 
to  be  there,  as  I  will  be  away  on  business.  You  know 
a  professional  man  can  never  claim  any  time  as  his 
own."  Yet  he  really  felt  glad  in  his  heart  that  he 
could  not  be  there  to  see  his  rival  with  Evelvn. 


Estrangement.  209 

As  he  rode  home  his  resolution  was  taken.  With  all 
the  pride  of  his  proud  race  he  determined  that  he  would 
appear  indifferent  to  whatever  might  happen.  Evelyn 
should  be  given  an  opportunity  to  decide  in  whose  favor 
she  wished,  without  the  humilation  of  a  direct  refusal 
of  himself  and  the  acceptance  of  his  rival  before  his 
very  eyes. 

"She  knows  I  love  her,  and  if  she  prefers  Willingham 
she  shall  be  free  to  decide  in  his  favor  without  inter 
ference  from  me,"  he  said,  with  bitter,  burning  jealousy. 

His  resolution  taken  was  strictly  kept,  and  none  but 
those  who  knew  him  best  suspected  the  torture  that  he 
endured  in  the  weeks  that  followed. 

To  Fannie  Montgomery  alone  was  Mr.  Willingham's 
visit  productive  of  unmixed  pleasure  for  the  present. 
In  his  genial,  refined  companionship  she  found  the 
sympathy  she  had  never  met  before  beyond  her  own 
family  circle.  She  had  never  given  a  thought  to  her  own 
feelings,  or  to  the  fact  that  she  knew  he  was  the  lover 
of  her  dearest  friend,  and  not  till  it  was  too  late  did 
she  wake  up  to  the  knowledge  that  Arthur  Willingham 
was  the  sole  possessor  of  her  warm  young  heart. 

Evelyn  unwittingly  lent  herself  to  further  the  too  oft 
repeated  meetings  between  her  girl  friend  and  Mr. 
Willingham  in  her  own  home  or  in  the  walks  and  drives 
they  took  together. 

Mr.  Willingham  admired  the  bright,  graceful  South 
ern  girl  very  much,  and  if  he  had  been  heart  free  would 
perhaps  have  promptly  fallen  in  love  with  her.  He 
could  not  well  love  two  girls  at  the  same  time,  but  he 
came  as  near  doing  it  as  any  man  really  could. 


2io  Under  the  Magnolias. 

To  Evelyn  the  demeanor  of  the  young  Doctor  was 
inexplicable.  His  haughty  coolness  was  unbearable  al 
most  to  the  gentle  girl  who  did  not  understand  him. 
She  wondered  if  others  noticed  it  and  perplexed  her 
brain  to  know  what  she  had  done  to  cause  such  a  change 
in  him;  or  if  it  was  indeed  herself  that  had  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  the  alteration  in  his  intercourse  with 
her. 

The  thoughts  that  had  engrossed  her  so  much  since 
the  night  of  the  holy  dance  at  Greengrove,  had  almost 
been  forgotten  since  Mr.  Willingham  had  come  into 
their  quiet  midst,  bringing,  unconsciously,  so  much 
trouble. 

One  afternoon,  as  they  were  sitting  engaged  in  quiet 
conversation,  Fannie  asked: 

"Evelyn,  did  you  ever  tell  Mr.  Willingham  of  your 
experience  at  the  negro  meeting  you  attended  last 
winter?" 

"No,  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  mentioned  it 
to  him,"  she  answered,  gently. 

"No,  Miss  Montgomery,  she  has  honored  me  with 
very  few  confidences  since  I  have  been  visiting  her,  I 
do  assure  you,"  and  the  young  man  turned  to  Fannie. 
As  his  direct  look  met  hers  the  lids  drooped  over  the 
soft  violet  eyes  and  the  pink  flush  deepened  on  the  fair 
young  face. 

Evelyn  saw  it  all  in  a  moment,  and  a  pang  of  self- 
reproach  shot  through  her  heart,  as  she  thought  of  the 
unhappiness  in  store  for  Fannie  if  she  had  given  her 
love  unsought  and  unappreciated.  She  thought  bit 
terly  of  that  "old  crosspatch  Fate,"  who  was  always 


Estrangement.  211 

introducing  elements  that  spoiled  somebody's  happiness 
in  life.    But  she  said  gaily : 

"Fie,  Mr.  Willingham,  to  speak  so  disparagingly  of 
my  efforts  to  prove  entertaining;  but  I  am  going  to 
leave  that  interesting  recital  to  you,  Fairy;  you  can 
relate  that  much  better  than  I,  as  I  do  not  understand 
the  negro  dialect  sufficiently  yet  to  undertake  anything 
so  difficult." 

"Miss  Melton,  you  must  not  accuse  me  of  inappre- 
ciation  of  my  entertainment,  for  I  have  certainly  had, 
as  you  young  ladies  would  say,  '&.  most  lovely  time'  since 
I  came  to  Louisiana.  In  the  two  weeks  I  have  spent 
in  this  neighborhood,  I  have  hunted  and  fished  to  my 
heart's  content,  and  you  both  know  how  much  I  have 
enjoyed  the  hours  of  your  society,"  he  exclaimed  gal 
lantly.  "But  I  am  now  waiting  impatiently  for  Miss 
Montgomery's  recital  of  the  negro  meeting." 

"I  will  not  have  time  now,  as  it  is  growing  late  and 
I  must  return  home.  See,  the  sun  is  about  to  leave  us, 
and  I  must  also  make  my  adieus."  So  saying  she  rose 
to  go. 

"I  wish  you  could  stay  longer,"  exclaimed  Evelyn, 
eagerly. 

"I  will  come  again  you  know.  I  always  do;  don't 
I  ?"  Fannie  answered  with  a  sweet  smile. 

They  went  out  on  the  lawn,  where  Gyp  was  feeding 
on  the  green  grass. 

"Where  do  you  ladies  find  your  beautiful  ponies ;  not 
imported,  are  they?"  questioned  Mr.  Willingham. 

"No,  indeed,  we  raise  them  here  in  Louisiana,"  as 
gaily  waving  her  hand  in  farewell,  she  rode  away. 


212  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Isn't  she  a  fine  rider  ?  I  never  saw  a  more  graceful 
horsewoman,"  Mr.  Willingham  remarked,  as  they 
watched  Fannie  gallop  out  of  sight. 

"Yes,  I  think  her  lovely  and  graceful  in  every  thing/' 
answered  Evelyn,  warmly. 

"Let  us  walk  down  this  beautiful  slope,  Miss  Melton ; 
will  you?"  asked  her  companion. 

"Yes,  it  is  too  lovely  to  stay  indoors.  Fannie  Mont 
gomery  and  I  spend  most  of  the  time  we  are  together 
out  on  our  ponies,  or  walking.  We  have  discovered  a 
hill  from  which  we  get  a  beautiful  view  of  the  setting 
sun.  It  is  just  out  here,  not  far  from  the  public  high 
way.  We  have  named  it  sunset  hill,  and  we  often  go 
there  to  watch  the  sun  sink  behind  the  western  slopes. 
Suppose  we  try  to  reach  it  before  the  sun  quite  leaves 
us,"  and  Evelyn  quickened  her  pace. 

"With  all  my  heart,  for  I  think  a  sunset  in  these  in 
tensely  green  hills  must  be  very  beautiful.  All  the 
world  is  lovely  to  me  when  I  am  with  you,"  he  said 
softly,  then  he  asked: 

"Why  is  it  that  you  seem  to  love  the  younger  sister 
so  much  more  than  the  elder  of  the  Montgomery  girls  ?" 

"Eeally,  I  can  scarcely  tell  you,  unless  it  be  the  fact 
that  she  seems  to  love  me  better  than  the  elder  sister 
does,"  answered  Evelyn,  musingly. 

"On  the  principle  of  love  begetting  love,  I  suppose," 
he  responded  gently.  "I  wonder  if  that  theory  holds 
good  in  love  as  in  friendship.  If  that  be  true  then  I 
may  hope  for  a  successful  issue  to  my  Guit." 

They  were  sitting  on  a  log  at  the  summit  of  the  hill 
just  where  the  road  made  an  abrupt  bend  around  a 


Estrangement.  213 

dense  thicket  of  small  pine  trees,  watching  the  last 
vestige  of  color  fade  from  the  western  sky. 

Evelyn  did  not  reply  to  his  last  remark,  and  he  con 
tinued  in  the  same  earnest  voice: 

"Evelyn,  you  know  why  I  came  to  Louisiana;  you 
know,  you  must  know,  that  I  have  loved  you  ever  since 
I  first  met  you  in  my  home  two  years  ago.  You  have 
scrupulously  concealed  your  feelings;  you  have  given 
me  no  room  for  hope;  yet  I  will  hope  in  spite  of  all, 
that  you  do  love  me,  if  it  is  only  a  little,"  he  pleaded, 
as  he  took  her  hand. 

At  this  moment  a  horseman  turned  the  bend  of  the 
road,  just  beyond  where  they  were  sitting,  and  Evelyn 
quickly  disengaged  her  hand  from  Mr.  Willingham's 
detaining  clasp.  The  movement  was  quick,  but  not  be 
fore  Laurie — for  it  was  he — saw  it,  and  Evelyn's  deep 
blush  of  confusion,  made  him  doubly  sure  that  they 
were  engaged  lovers. 

He  was  not  riding  as  rapidly  as  usual,  or  he  might 
not  have  seen  so  plainly,  as  he  did,  that  which  made 
him  pale  and  brought  a  compression  to  his  lips  that 
told  of  suffering  plainer  than  words.  He  took  off  his 
hat  to  them,  a  courtly  way  peculiar  to  him,  and  putting 
spurs  to  his  horse  was  quickly  out  of  sight. 

"Evelyn,  you  must  answer  me;  I  cannot  endure  this 
suspense  longer,"  he  urged,  as  he  endeavored  to  regain 
possession  of  her  hand. 

"Oh,  no — no — "  she  answered,  in  a  low  tone.  She 
was  trembling  with  excitement  now.  "I  will  not  deceive 
you;  I  do  not  love  you;  I  can  never  be  more  than  a 
friend  to  you.  I  have  tried  to  show  you  that  I  did  not, 


214  Under  the  Magnolias. 

could  not,  love  you,  and  I  was  beginning  to  "hope  that 
you  were  learning  to  love  my  little  friend  at  The 
Magnolias;  who  I  fear  thinks  too  much  of  you  already. 
She  is  more  worthy  of  you,  and  better  suited  to  you, 
than  I  ever  could  be.  Oh !  I  am  so  much  troubled  and 
distressed  about  it,"  she  said,  speaking  more  rapidly 
and  passionately  than  he  had  believed  she  possibly 
could. 

He  replied  in  a  low,  constrained  tone: 

"Don't  you  know,  that  to  offer  a  friend,  instead  of 
yourself,  to  a  lover,  is  like  giving  a  stone  to  a  man  beg 
ging  bread.  Perhaps  you  misunderstand  your  friend's 
feelings  toward  me  after  all ;  at  least  you  will  not  hold 
me  responsible  for  them,"  he  added,  bitterly. 

"Oh,  no,  I  do  not,  could  not  blame  you  in  the  least, 
for  what  I  fear  in  regard  to  her  sentiments  toward  you, 
and  am  truly  sorry  that  I  should  have  betrayed  what  I 
only  conjecture;  but  I  know  that  I  can  trust  you  to 
keep  the  knowledge  of  it  inviolably  sacred,"  said 
Evelyn,  deeply  mortified  that  she  in  her  excitement 
should  have  said  a  word  of  what  she  had  good  reason 
to  fear. 

<cYon  may  trust  anything  concerning  Miss  Mont 
gomery  safely  with  me.  I  admire  her  above  every  other 
woman  I  have  ever  met  excepting  yourself;  and,  per 
haps,  in  time  may  learn  to  love  her,  if,  as  you  say,  she 
has  bestowed  the  priceless  gift  of  her  love  on  so  un 
worthy  an  object  as  myself,  but  just  now  I  cannot 
think  of  any  one  but  you.  I  cannot  in  a  few  hours 
eradicate  from  my  heart  the  sweet  vision  that  has  lin- 


E  strangement.  2 1 5 

gered  there  so  tenderly  for  many  months/'  he  replied, 
with  mournful  pathos. 

Evelyn's  gentle  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  as  she  replied : 

"I  would  not  willingly  give  anyone  pain,  especially 
the  brother  of  a  dear  friend,  and  a  friend  yourself  in 
whom  I  feel  the  deepest  interest;  but  I  cannot  give 
my  hand  without  the  love  of  my  heart.  Please  do  not 
think  unkindly  of  me  for  what  I  have  said,"  she  asked 
softly. 

"Oh,  Evelyn,  think  again  of  my  offer — a  heart  full 
of  love  for  you,  and,  dearest,  I  can  offer  you  all  the 
advantages  of  wealth  and  position,  which  you  so  richly 
deserve.  I  am  willing  to  wait  and  trust  you  for  the 
love  that  will  come  in  time,  if  you  have  not  already 
given  your  heart  to  another.  Such  love  as  mine  must 
bring  an  answering  impulse  in  a  colder  nature  than 
yours.  Will  you  not  give  my  proposition  a  little  longer 
consideration?  Think  over  it  to-night  and  perhaps 
you  may  change  your  mind  in  my  favor.  Do  not  de 
cide  irrevocably  this  evening,  a  question  that  is  fraught 
with  so  much,  for  at  least  one  of  us.  I  will  come  to 
bid  you  farewell  in  the  morning  and  you  may  then  give 
me  an  answer  that  I  shall  consider  as  final,"  he  pleaded 
with  eyes  and  voice,  as  they  parted  at  the  little  gate. 

To  Evelyn  the  night  was  one  of  trial  and  tempta 
tion.  No  woman  is  deaf  to  the  alluring  vision  of 
wealth  and  position;  a  bridal  tour  of  Europe,  any 
thing  and  everything,  that  money  cauld  buy  or  love 
suggest,  would  be  hers  as  the  wife  of  Arthur  Willing- 
ham.  A  home  of  luxury  for  her  parents,  the  money  to 
put  into  quick  execution  the  project  of  benevolence  so 


216  Under  the  Magnolias. 

dear  to  her  heart.  All  these  thoughts  thronged,  upon 
her  mind.  Did  not  he  say  that  he  would  wait  for  the 
love  she  could  not  yet  give  him;  and  was  she  sure  that 
her  love  was  of  any  value  to  the  man  who,  but  yester 
day,  had  treated  her  as  a  stranger  almost. 

Yet  there  was  Fannie — had  not  Arthur  said  he  might, 
in  time  learn  to  love  her,  and  that  she  loved  him,  she 
did  not  doubt  for  a  moment,  after  what  she  had  seen 
that  very  evening? 

She  tossed  restlessly  for  many  hours  while  the  battle 
of  contending  passions  raged  in  her  heart.  At  last 
woman's  strong,  faithful  love  came  off  conqueror,  as 
she  resolutely  laid  her  heart  on  the  altar  of  her  first, 
deep  and  true  love.  She  knew  now  that  she  loved  with 
all  the  sweet  tenderness  of  mature  womanhood;  and 
with  that  knowledge,  came  the  gentle  humility  that 
comes  to  a  woman  in  regard  to  the  object  of  her  de 
votion — a  feeling  that  she  is  not  worthy  of  the  idol  of 
perfection  that  she  has  enthroned  upon  the  pedestal  of 
her  heart.  For  a  woman  always  makes  an  idol  of  him 
to  whom  she  gives  the  first  great  love  of  her  woman 
hood  ;  and  she  is  no  iconoclast.  Once  he  is  enthroned  in 
that  heart,  he  is  never,  by  any  act  of  hers,  cast  down ;  not 
the  world's  scorn,  nor  the  contumely  of  friends,  has 
power  to  move  one  iota  that  worshipful  love  she  can 
give  but  once.  But  let  him,  that  petted  darling  of  a 
woman's  love,  but  debase  himself  in  her  eyes  and  he 
hurls  himself  from  the  lofty  pedestal  on  which  faith 
ful  love  had  placed  him,  to  return  no  more  thither. 
She  may  be  faithful  to  her  marriage  vows,  but  never 


Estrangement.  2 1 7 

again  can  she  feel  the  loving  reverence  she  once  has 
felt  for  him. 

Evelyn  realized  now,  as  she  never  had  before,  the 
power  of  unspoken  love,  and  meekly  bent  her  heart  to 
Fate. 

She  rose  early  the  next  morning  and  wrote  to  Mr. 
Willingham  a  very  kind,  but  decided  refusal  of  his 
suit,  with  best  wishes  for  his  future  happiness,  and  bid 
ding  him  farewell;  in  conclusion  she  said: 

"It  will  spare  us  both  pain  if  we  meet  no  more  just 
now,  therefore,  again,  farewell." 

While  Evelyn  was  spending  the  first  hours  of  the 
night  in  restlessness  and  doubt,  the  two  men  over 
whom  she  was  having  this  mental  conflict,  were  sitting 
on  Mr.  Bliss's  porch  smoking  and  talking. 

The  subject  naturally  drifted  to  the  South,  and  the 
unhappy  state  of  things  in  that  section,  now  making 
such  strenuous  efforts  to  recover  from  the  blasting  ef 
fects  of  the  civil  war.  The  suddenly  emancipated  negro 
and  his  present  status  was  discussed,  when  young  Wil 
lingham  exclaimed: 

"Last  evening  your  sister  Fannie  made  an  allusion 
to  a  negro  meeting,  that  she  and  Miss  Melton  had  at 
tended,  which  seemed  to  have  a  very  disquieting  effect 
upon  the  latter,  who  at  once  referred  the  description 
and  explanation  of  the  affair  to  Miss  Fannie.  The 
matter  was  left  untouched,  as  Miss  Montgomery  left 
shortly  afterward  for  home,  promising  to  tell  me  to 
morrow,  but  as  I  expect  to  leave  the  neighborhood  to 
morrow,  I  will  be  glad  if  you  will  tell  me  something  of 


218  Under  the  Magnolias. 

an  affair  that  seemed  to  have  power  to  affect  Miss  Mel 
ton  so  much." 

Laurie  winced  inwardly  at  the  memory  of  that  last 
evening  he  had  spent  with  Evelyn,  this  subject  called 
so  vividly  to  mind  their  short-lived  plan  for  united 
effort  in  the  pursuit  of  philanthropy,  but  he  answered 
calmly : 

"Yes,  I  think  I  can  explain  to  you  why  Miss  Melton 
is  so  very  much  troubled  in  regard  to  the  negroes  of 
this  backwoods  section  of  the  state,  where  there  are  no 
public  schools  that  are  really  worth  calling  schools,  and 
also  her  morbidly  exaggerated  view  of  her  possible  duty 
toward  them,"  replied  Doctor  Montgomery. 

He  then  gave  his  interested  listener  a  graphic  ac 
count  of  the  meeting  at  the  African  Church,  the  holy 
dance,  and  its  effects  on  Evelyn. 

"One  of  her  dreams  now  is  to  establish  a  training 
school  in  this  neighborhood ;  where  the  younger  genera 
tion  of  negroes  shall  be  taught  useful  trades,  and  given 
a  common  school  education. 

"She  is  very  apprehensive  of  the  negroes'  relapse  into 
a  state  of  barbarism,  judging  by  their  church  worship 
that  she  witnessed  at  Green  Grove;  and  the  fearfully 
low  state  of  their  morals,  of  which  she  knows  very  little, 
and  has  only  learned  that  little  since  her  residence  in 
the  South,"  Laurie  said,  gravely. 

"But  why  more  danger  now,  than  as  slaves  they  were 
denied  the  right  of  the  ballot,  and  of  the  public 
schools?"  inquired  Mr.  Willingham. 

"Well,  you  know  I  have  only  been  giving  you  your 
Northern  friend's  view  of  the  situation,  and  am  not 


E  strangement.  2 1 9 

accountable  for  any  of  her  opinions  on  the  subject. 
But  I  shall  answer  your  last  question  from  the  stand 
point  of  one  who,  being  on  the  ground,  can  understand 
the  situation  better  than  anyone  could  from  a  distance. 
The  negro,  during  the  days  of  slavery — I  am  speaking 
for  the  hill  country  strictly — worshiped  with  their  mas 
ters,  and  were  taught  the  same  gospel.  All  this  voo- 
dooism,  or  barbarous  ritualism,  was  introduced  since 
their  emancipation ;  and,  with  the  aptitude  of  the  black 
race  to  retrograde,  it  is  certainly  not  a  problem  easy  of 
solution  as  to  what  is  the  most  efficient  means  to  advance 
them,  mentally,  morally  and  financially.  It  is,  I  think, 
a  formidable  question  that  will  have  to  be  met  in  some 
way.  I  must  confess  it  has  troubled  me  no  little,  as  I 
have  a  better  opportunity  in  my  profession  of  knowing 
more  of  their  utter  disregard  of  the  moral  obligations 
of  life,  than  most  people  have.  We  can  only  hope  for 
the  best  and  be  patient  with  them.  Perhaps  when  the 
country  grows  more  prosperous,  and  the  public  schools 
are  more  numerous  and  efficient,  things  will  improve 
with  them,  even  in  so  remote  a  section  as  this. 

"My  father  and  I  help  them  all  we  can.  Our  prac 
tice  for  them  is  largely  gratuitous.  I  think  they  all 
have  confidence  in  us  and  regard  us  as  their  friends/' 
concluded  the  young  doctor. 

A  silence  of  some  moments  fell  between  the  young 
men,  which  was  broken  at  length  by  Mr.  Willingham's 
inquiring  in  a  low  tone : 

"Would  you,  Doctor  Montgomery,  be  willing  to  devote 
the  time  and  study  necessary  to  the  success  of  such  an 
undertaking,  if  I  supply  the  money  that  will  enable 


22O  Under  the  Magnolias. 

you  to  carry  yours  and  Miss  Melton's  beneficent  scheme 
into  execution?  Or  is  it  asking  too  much  of  a  busy, 
professional  man  like  yourself?" 

"I  am  willing,  and  more  than  willing,  to  do  every 
thing  to  further  any  move  that  has  the  uplifting  of 
humanity  as  its  object.  And  I  assure  you  that  you  will 
win  the  deep  gratitude  of  Miss  Melton's  heart  as  well  as 
of  mine,  in  thus  nobly  contributing  to  this  work  of 
philanthropy,"  the  Doctor  responded,  heartily. 

"Well,  remember,"  answered  Arthur  Willingham, 
"that  to  you  alone  I  shall  entrust  this  fund.  I  shall 
place  it  entirely  at  your  disposal,  with  the  most  im 
plicit  confidence  in  your  ability  to  dispose  of  it  for  the 
best  results,  and  you  need  not  tell  Miss  Melton  that  I 
have  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  unless  you  choose  to 
do  so/'  with  a  tinge  of  bitterness  in  his  voice. 

"I  shall  not  attempt  to  express  to  you  my  apprecia 
tion  of  your  confidence  in  me,  save  by  striving  to  jus 
tify  your  good  opinion  of  my  ability  to  put  into  execu 
tion  a  scheme  I  have  long  been  very  anxious  to  see  tried, 
but  have  never  been  able,  for  lack  of  funds,  to  carry 
out.  I  do  not  believe  you  will  ever  regret  your  gener 
ous  gift,  as  I  am  fully  in  accord  with  that  text  of  Holy 
Writ,  which  says,  'it  is  better  to  give  than  to  receive,' " 
Laurie  replied,  warmly. 

"I  do  not  wish  any  gratitude  on  your  part;  that 
should  all  come  in  on  my  side  to  you,  for  thus  putting 
me  in  the  way  of  investing  a  little  of  the  money,  use 
fully,  that  I  probably  should  have  squandered  on  selfish 
pleasures,  as  I  have  done  so  many  thousands  already. 
This  visit  has  taught  me  a  great  deal  more  of  you 


Estrangement.  221 

Southerners  than  I  could  have  learned  by  passing 
through  your  cities,  or  lingering  at  your  winter  resorts, 
where  one  sees  only  the  wealthy  and  fashionable  side  of 
life.  Mr.  Bliss  has  told  me  much  of  yours  and  your 
noble  father's  kindness,  and  fair  treatment  of  the  ne 
groes  in  your  district/'  said  Arthur,  as  he  threw  his 
cigar  in  the  yard,  and  added: 

"I  shall,  in  all  probability,  leave  your  neighborhood 
to-morrow,  as  I  mentioned  a  few  moments  ago,  and 
shall  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  by  The  Mag 
nolias  and  bidding  your  mother  and  sisters  farewell." 

"We  shall  be  sorry  to  bid  you  good-bye,  and  hope  you 
will  come  again  to  see  the  progress  of  the  training 
school;  the  'Willingham  Academy',"  said  the  doctor. 

"No,  you  must  not  call  it  for  me,  I  am  having  too 
little  to  do  with  it,  to  deserve  the  honor  of  having  it 
called  for  me.  As  soon  as  I  reach  New  Orleans,  I  shall 
make  all  the  arrangements  necessary  to  transmit  to  you 
the  money  as  you  need  it." 

After  discussing  their  plans  fully,  both  men  rose, 
Laurie  to  ride  home  and  the  other  to  go  to  his  room 
for  the  remainder  of  the  night. 

Ere  they  parted  they  shook  hands  warmly,  and  the 
strong  friendship,  thus  begun,  lasted  through  life. 

When  Laurie  reached  home,  he  went  to  his  mother's 
room  and  told  her  that  Mr.  Willingham  would  call  early 
in  the  morning  to  bid  them  adieu;  then  he  went  up 
stairs  and  throwing  himself  on  his  bed,  was  soon  asleep. 
His  vigils  for  the  past  two  weeks  were  telling  on  him, 
together  with  the  intense  mental  suspense  through 
which  he  had  passed  made  him  very  weary,  and  he  did 


222  Under  the  Magnolias. 

not  awaken   until   the   sun   shone   through  the  open 
windows  so  brightly  as  to  disturb  him. 

True  to  promise,  Evelyn's  suitor  called  at  her  father's 
on  his  way  to  The  Magnolias,  and  a  very  small,  black 
boy  came  out  to  the  gate  as  soon  as  the  buggy  stopped, 
and  handed  him  the  note  that  Evelyn  had  written  early 
that  morning.  He  read  it,  flushing  and  paling  by  turns, 
then  thrusting  it  in  his  pocket  he  bade  the  driver  take 
him  to  Doctor  Montgomery's. 

It  is  singular  how  quickly  some  men  will  turn  away 
from  the  impregnable  wall  of  an  irrevocable  never. 
Why  stand  gazing  idly  at  the  unattainable  Edelweiss, 
flaunting  on  Alpine  heights  of  impossibility,  when  ver 
dant  meadows  of  Probability  stretched  around  him, 
decked  with  fairer  flowers  ready  for  his  plucking? 

Thus  Arthur  Willingham  felt,  as  he  took  his  wounded 
heart  to  his  sympathetic  friend  at  The  Magnolias, 
for  the  magic  touch  of  love's  sweet  healing.  It  was 
plain  to  him  now,  since  Evelyn's  subtle  suggestion,  that 
Fannie  was  more  suitable  to  him  as  a  wife  than  Evelyn 
could  ever  be.  Perhaps  she  did  love  him,  and  the  idea 
gave  him  a  feeling  of  consolation. 

Fannie  Montgomery  was  in  the  garden  gathering 
flowers  when  the  buggy  drove  up  to  the  gate  of  the 
Montgomery  homestead.  The  roses  blushed  no  deeper 
pink  than  bloomed  in  the  cheeks  of  this  fair  flower  of 
the  garden,  when  she  saw  the  occupant  of  the  vehicle 
step  out,  and  walk  rapidly  up  the  path  to  where  she 
stood,  with  her  hands  full  of  flowers.  When  he  reached 
her  side,  he  said  gaily: 

"Queen  Eose  of  the  rosebud  garden  of  girls,  allow 


Estrangement.  223 

me  to  assist  you  with  your  burden  of  beauty/'  as  he 
took  some  of  the  flowers  from  her,  then  added,  softly: 

"I  have  come  to  say  good  morning,  and  farewell  in 
the  same  breath  almost,  Miss  Fannie." 

"Oh,  are  you  going  to  leave  us  to-day;  and  does 
Evelyn  know  it,  Mr.  Willingharn  ?"  she  asked,  looking 
at  him  from  under  the  dark  lashes  that  would  droop 
in  trying  to  hide  the  telltale  eyes. 

''Yes,  she  knows,  and  she  does  not  care.  I  do  assure 
you  she  does  not  regard  my  movements  with  the  slight 
est  degree  of  interest,"  he  responded,  a  little  fiercely; 
then  he  added  more  gently: 

"If  you  will  arrange  a  bouquet  of  these  lovely  flowers, 
and  give  me  to  take  home,  I  shall  preserve  it  in  mem 
ory  of  the  radiant  picture  I  saw  in  this  garden  when  I 
first  arrived  this  morning,"  and  the  handsome  black 
eyes  looked  admiringly  into  the  blushing  face  before 
him. 

Fannie  was  only  seventeen,  and  looked  even  younger. 
The  constantly  changing  color  played  over  the  fair 
face  as  she  answered: 

"Oh,  yes,  and  you  will  help  me.  I  know  what  ex 
quisite  taste  you  have  in  arranging  flowers.  Do  you 
remember  the  wreath  we  wove  for  Evelyn's  hat,  the 
day  we  went  fishing  down  on  the  bayou?"  and  she 
laughed  gaily  at  the  memory,  one  of  her  musical,  con 
tagious  laughs,  in  which  he  joined. 

"Yes,  I  remember,  very  distinctly,  assisting  you  in 
weaving  the  wreath,  but  cannot  recall  any  especial  dis 
play  of  taste  on  my  part,"  he  replied,  as  he  walked  by 
her  side  up  the  garden  path  toward  the  house. 


224  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Shall  we  go  in  now  and  let  mother  and  Marion 
know  that  you  are  going  to  leave  us?  I  know  they 
will  regret  it,  for  you  have  made  warm  friends  of  every 
one  here,  Mr.  Willingham,"  said  Fannie,  as  she  looked 
shyly  up  at  him. 

"Miss  Fannie,  tell  me,  before  we  go  in,  will  you  an 
swer  the  letters  I  am  going  to  write  you  when  I  leave 
Louisiana  ?"  he  asked,  softly. 

The  sweet  face  grew  pinker,  and  she  hesitated  a 
moment.  How  perfectly  lovely  she  looked  as  they 
paused  a  moment  for  her  reply  to  his  question.  How 
much  he  wished  in  that  moment  that  he  could  transfer 
to  her  instantly  his  whole  heart,  for  it  was  evident 
to  him  now  that  this  trusting  young  creature  had,  un 
knowingly,  given  her  heart  into  his  keeping. 

After  an  instant's  hesitation,  she  answered  frankly: 

"Mother  has  always  objected  to  my  entering  into 
correspondence  with  gentlemen;  but  perhaps  she  will 
make  an  exception  in  your  favor,  as  you  seem  to  be  a 
favorite  with  her;  we  can  ask  her,  or  rather  you  may 
ask." 

They  now  entered  the  parlor,  where  they  found 
Marion  by  the  window  reading.  Fannie  then  went  in 
search  of  her  mother,  leaving  Mr.  Willingham  seated 
near  Marion. 

As  she  left  the  room  he  was  saying: 

"I  did  not  know  before  I  came  that  I  would  find  so 
many  friends  here  whom  I  could  love  and  admire.  I 
was  thinking  as  I  drove  over  here  what  a  noble  young 
man  your  brother  is.  It  is  not  often  in  life  we  meet 


Estrangement.  225 


with  such  men.  He  and  I  are  the  best  of  friends,  sin 
gular  as  it  may  seem/'  and  Arthur  smiled  grimly. 

"Well,  as  the  country  proved  a  better  one  than  you 
anticipated  this  time,  perhaps  we  may  persuade  you  to 
come  again/'  responded  Marion,  blushing  deeply,  as 
she  added: 

"If  it  will  be  an  inducement,  I  will  give  you  an  in 
vitation  to  my  marriage  on  Mayday.  Will  you  come?" 

"It  is  a  great  temptation,  and  I  earnestly  wish  I  were 
free  to  accept  your  kind  invitation,  but  I  will  be  in  the 
far  West  then,  and  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  re 
turn  at  that  time,  but  I  will  write  my  congratulations," 
Arthur  replied. 

Fannie  now  came  in  with  her  mother,  and  while  the 
others  talked  she  listened  and  arranged  some  of  her 
most  lovely  flowers  into  a  bouquet  for  Mr.  Willingham. 
He  asked  for  and  obtained  from  Mrs.  Montgomery  a 
frank  consent  to  a  correspondence  between  himself  and 
Fannie. 

He  now  rose  to  leave  and  received  many  cordial  in 
vitations  to  repeat  his  visit  to  Louisiana  at  an  early 
day.  To  Fannie's  white  little  hand  he-  gave  a  warmer 
pressure,  and  there  was  a  deeper  meaning  in  the  dark 
eyes  as  they  met  hers  for  a  moment,  in  farewell;  and 
then  he  went  away.  To  one  young  heart  his  going  meant 
so  much:  a  sudden  darkening  of  the  light,  a  dullness, 
that  rendered  all  things  devoid  of  interest.  She  went  to 
her  room,  and  tried  to  get  her  mind  fixed  on  a  book  of 
her  favorite  poems,  but  all  in  vain.  She  threw  down 
the  volume  in  disgust,  and  running  downstairs  called  to 
her  mother  as  she  got  her  hat : 


226  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"Mother,  dear,  I  am  going  for  a  ride."  She  went  out 
to  the  lot,  caught  and  saddled  Gyp,  and  galloped  away 
for  several  miles.  On  her  return,  she  stopped  a  mo 
ment  to  chat  with  Evelyn,  whom  she  found  in  the 
kitchen  with  sleeves  rolled  up,  checked  apron  on,  and 
seemingly  very  busy. 

"Fannie,  mother  has  gone  to  Mrs.  Bliss's  for  the 
day,  and  left  me  to  prepare  the  dinner.  I  am  very 
much  afraid  that  father  will  not  find  it  a  chef  d'ceuvre, 
as  I  must  confess  that  I  am  a  very  poor  cook.  Mother 
will  never  allow  me  to  do  any  plain  cooking;  only 
cakes  or  something  that  we  do  not  have  ordinarily," 
said  Evelyn,  as  she  welcomed  Fannie  warmly. 

"Well,  you  need  not  be  ashamed  to  confess  to  me, 
Evelyn,  for  I  am  in  the  same  lamentable  condition.  I 
don't  know  any  more  about  cooking  'than  a  cat  does 
about  Sunday,'  with  the  exception  of  jam  puffs  and 
French  rolls,"  said  Fannie,  with  a  grimace. 

"I  can  testify  that  you  make  them  to  perfection," 
was  Evelyn's  laughing  rejoinder. 

"I  did  not  stop  here  but  for  a  moment,  Evelyn,  and 
have  not  time  to  discuss  cookery,  but  to  ask  when  are 
you  ever  again  to  pay  us  an  old-time,  confidential  visit. 
I  really  have  not  seen  you  alone  in  over  two  weeks," 
exclaimed  Fannie,  solemnly. 

"Did  Arthur  Willingham  go  by  to  tell  you  good-bye, 
Fannie?" 

"Yes,  he  came  by,  and  stayed  an  hour  or  two.  I 
wonder  if  you  are  going  to  wait  until  I  beg  your  con 
fidence,  before  you  tell  me  what  is  the  matter  between 
you  and  that  gentleman,  for  I  know,  of  course,  that  he 


Estrangement.  227 

came  to  Louisiana  to  see  you/'  Fannie  said  in  an  in 
jured  tone,  as  the  blood  came  and  went  in  her  face. 

"Please  give  me  time,  dear,  and  I  will  tell  you  all 
there  is  to  tell.  Come  and  spend  the  night  with  me, 
Fannie,  can't  you?"  pleaded  Evelyn. 

"No,  I  feel  as  if  I  cannot  leave  Mai  longer  than  an 
hour  or  two  now.  She  has  so  few  weeks  to  stay  with 
us.  It  gives  me  the  most  awful  blues,  just  to  contem 
plate  my  loneliness  after  she  leaves  me,"  and  bidding 
Evelyn  an  affectionate  good-bye,  Fannie  left  for  home. 


228  Under  the  Magnolias. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CONCLUSION-. 

Orlando.     "I  take  thee,  Rosalind,  for  wife." 
Rosalind.     "I  might  ask  you  for  your  commission;  but — I  do 
take  thee,  Orlando,  for  my  husband."— "As  You  Like  It." 

A  FEW  mornings  after  Fannie's  visit  to  Evelyn,  she 
found,  on  coming  down  to  the  sitting  room,  that  her 
mother,  father  and  Laurie,  had  spent  the  night  at  the 
Bliss's,  with  the  baby,  who  was  quite  ill.  Laurie  was 
the  only  occupant  of  the  room  and  he  looked  dull  and 
sleepy. 

"And  are  father  and  mother  still  there?"  Fannie 
inquired. 

"Yes,  and  will  remain  until  the  afternoon,  •  when  I 
shall  return,  and  if  you  and  your  friend,  Miss  Melton, 
wish  to  make  yourselves  useful,  you  may  go  over  and 
help  nurse  the  little  fellow  to-night,  so  that  those  who 
sat  up  with  him  last  night  may  get  some  rest  and 
sleep,"  Laurie  replied. 

"I  did  not  know  the  baby  was  so  very  ill,"  Fannie 
said.  "Evelyn  did  say  something  about  her  mother's 
being  over  there  a  good  deal,  but  I  don't  remember 
anything  of  sickness  in  the  matter.  Of  course,  Laurie, 
we  will  go;  though  I  do  hate  to  go  where  anyone  is 


Conclusion.  229 

very  ill,  yet  I  know  I  ought  to  learn  how  to  nurse,  and 
to  get  over  my  extreme  selfishness." 

"You  and  Miss  Melton  may  go  early.  Do  not  wait 
for  me,  as  I  shall  not  come  until  later.  The  baby  will 
pass  the  crisis,  most  probably,  the  latter  part  of  the 
night,  and  will  be  better  or  worse  by  morning/'  said 
Laurie,  as  he  took  a  seat  near  his  sister. 

"Laurie,  I  must  tell  you  some  of  the  nice  things  Mr. 
Willingham  said  of  you,  the  morning  before  he  left  us. 
He  spoke  in  such  flattering  terms  of  you.  It  made 
me  quite  proud  of  you  when  I  heard  him,  who  knows  so 
much  of  the  world,  speak  of  you  as  he  did,"  and  Fannie 
threw  her  arms  around  her  brother's  neck. 

"Ah !  does  it  take  Willingham's  good  opinion  of  me 
expressed  in  'flattering  terms/  to  make  you  proud  of 
me,  little  sis?"  he  said  playfully,  returning  her  caress. 
Then  he  added: 

"I  wonder  if  my  loving  little  Fairy  is  sure  that  she 
did  not  let  that  'Yankee1  take  away  with  him  any  part 
of  the  loyal  little  big-heart,  that  should  all  remain  at 
home,"  and  he  looked  apprehensively  at  the  blushing 
face  and  downcast  eyes. 

"You  must  know,  Fairy,  that  he  came  here  solely  to 
visit  Miss  Melton;  therefore,  sacredly  guard  so  preg 
nable  a  fortress  as  your  heart,  against  one  who  cannot 
value  it." 

"Yes,  Laurie,  but  I  am  almost  certain  that  Evelyn 
does  not  love  him;  and  am  just  as  sure  that  she  told 
him  so.  He  intimated  as  much  to  me,  the  morning  he 
left  us.  I  believe,  Laurie,  that  she  loves  you,  and  you 
only,"  Fannie  replied,  looking  into  his  face. 


230  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"I  wish  it  was  true;  but  very  much  fear  that  you  are 
mistaken  in  regard  to  her  feelings  toward  me."  Then 
changing  the  subject  abruptly,  he  remarked,  "Willing- 
ham  is  a  noble  fellow  if  he  is  a  New  Englander." 

"Why,  I  thought  your  ideal  of  perfection  was  em 
bodied  in  a  New  Englander,"  and  Fannie  laughed, 
softly. 

He  frowned  and  compressed  his  lips,  and  they  went 
into  breakfast,  where  they  were  joined  by  Marion. 

"Ah,"  sighed  Fannie,  as  she  went  into  the  flower 
garden  after  breakfast.  "Love  is  a  hard  master;  he 
takes  our  hearts  and  wrings  them  at  his  will.  Surely, 
'Love  hath  more  of  pain  than  bliss/  and  she  walked 
slowly  among  the  blooming  roses,  and  remembered  the 
presence  of  a  loved  one,  whose  every  word  and  glance 
meant  so  much  to  her  warm,  young  heart. 

After  dinner  Mrs.  Montgomery  returned  home,  and 
Fannie  went  to  her  chamber  with  her;  assisted  her  to 
undress  and  go  to  bed,  then,  darkening  the  room,  she 
kissed  her  fondly  and  left  her  to  sleep.  She  was  be 
ginning  to  think  more  for  others.  Already,  suffering 
was  lessening  selfishness. 

Fannie  argued,  and  conjectured  to  herself,  what  Mr. 
Willingham's  treatment  of  her  meant.  She  came  to 
conclusions,  then  as  resolutely  dismissed  them  as  worth 
less.  As  she  sat  in  the  vine  covered  summer  house 
dreaming,  she  murmured  aloud : 

"If  he  cares  nothing  for  me,  why  should  he  wish  to 
correspond  with  me?  I  cannot,  will  not,  believe  that 
Arthur  Willingham  is  a  flirt,"  and  the  red  lips  drooped 
pathetically. 


Conclusion.  231 

She  dressed  and  went  early  to  Mr.  Melton's,  where 
she  was  joined  by  Evelyn.  They  then  went  on  to  Mr. 
Bliss's,  where  they  arrived  just  at  sunset,  and  in  obedi 
ence  to  the  physician's  orders,  sent  Mrs.  Melton  to  rest 
and  sleep. 

Mrs.  Bliss  expressed  great  satisfaction  at  the  kind 
ness  of  the  girls,  and  said  she  knew  they  would  prove 
good  nurses. 

"With  Doctor  Laurie  here  to  superintend  your  willing 
hands,  I  will  rest  easy,  and  feel  confident  that  my 
baby  will  be  carefully  tended  by  such  sweet,  good  girls/' 
she  exclaimed,  as  the  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes. 

"Let  me  have  the  fan,  Mrs.  Bliss,  and  your  place  by 
baby,  while  you  eat  your  supper,  or  do  anything  that 
you  please  to  do.  You  might  lie  down  and  rest  until 
the  doctor  comes,"  said  Evelyn  gently. 

"Have  you  and  Fannie  had  supper,  already?" 

"Yes,  not  really  supper,  but  an  early  lunch,"  an 
swered  Fannie. 

"Well,  if  you  should  get  hungry  while  you  are  sit 
ting  up,  I  think  you  both  feel  enough  at  home  to  help 
yourselves  to  anything  you  wish  in  my  pantry,  and 
there  will  be  hot  coffee  on  the  stove  for  you  to  drink;" 
then  she  left  the  room  and  the  sick  baby  to  the  young 
ladies.  When  she  reached  the  door  she  turned,  and 
said: 

"I  will  come  back  when  Doctor  Laurie  comes  and  hear 
his  opinion  of  the  baby,  before  I  try  to  sleep." 

About  nine  o'clock  the  Doctor  came  in,  and  in  a  low 
tone,  modulated  to  suit  the  sick  chamber,  bade  the 
young  ladies  good  evening,  but  did  not  offer  to  shake 


232  Under  the  Magnolias. 

hands  with  Evelyn,  as  their  intimacy  had  lately  sanc 
tioned  him  to  do. 

The  glance  he  gave  her  on  entering  the  room  showed 
him  how  pale  and  delicate  she  looked,  and  his  heart 
smote  him  painfully,  as  he  wondered  if  Fannie  could 
be  true  in  her  surmise,  while  he  counted  the  baby's  rapid 
pulse,  and  listened  to  his  labored  breathing. 

While  he  was  thus  employed,  Evelyn  watched  the 
strong,  white  hands,  as  they  handled  tenderly  the  infant 
form,  and  wondered  how  such  strength  and  gentleness 
could  be  so  combined  in  one  who  looked  as  if  he  had 
never  known  illness  or  pain. 

When  Mrs.  Bliss  returned  to  the  room  and  interro 
gated  Laurie  as  to  the  baby's  condition,  he  told  her 
there  would  not  likely  be  any  change  until  after  mid 
night,  and  insisted  on  her  going  to  sleep;  promising 
to  have  her  awakened  immediately,  should  any  change 
occur.  She  readily  promised  to  obey  commands,  if  she 
could  possibly  do  so,  and  left  the  room  to  the  nurses 
and  physician. 

Evelyn  sat  beside  the  crib  and  brushed  away  the  flies 
that  are  troublesome,  in  cases  of  protracted  illness,  even 
at  night,  in  our  warm  climate.  She  and  Fannie  kept 
up  a  desultory  conversation  in  low  tones,  which  kept 
them  from  growing  sleepy. 

The  Doctor  spent  most  of  the  time  walking  back  and 
forth  on  the  gallery,  while  he  consoled  himself,  man 
fashion,  with  a  cigar. 

"Fannie/'  asked  Evelyn,  as  she  caught  a  faint  odor 
of  the  burning  tobacco,  "do  you  like  cigar  smoke  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Fannie,  dreamily,  "it  is  so  delight- 


Conclusion.  233 

fully  suggestive  of  there  being  a  man  on  the  premises 
somewhere,  and  I  like  always  to  feel  there's  a  mascu 
line  protector  near  by." 

"You  are  deliciously  frank,  carissima  mia,"  replied 
her  friend,  laughing. 

"Yes,  I  thought  you  knew,  Evelyn,  that  candor  was 
one  of  my  virtues,  or  faults;  which?"  and  Fannie 
flushed  at  the  recollection  of  some  pretty  phrases  which 
Mr.  Willingham  had  used  in  regard  to  her  naivete,  as 
he  styled  it.  He  was  so  much  older  than  she  in  every 
sense  of  the  word. 

Evelyn  and  Laurie  had  preserved  the  most  dignified 
coldness  toward  each  other.  Thus  they  drifted  wider 
and  wider  apart. 

After  twelve  o'clock,  the  baby  grew  less  restless;  his 
breathing  became  easy,  and  by  three,  Laurie  pronounced 
him  out  of  danger,  and  the  crisis  past.  The  happiness 
of  the  parents  knew  no  bounds,  and  two  more  grateful 
people  than  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bliss  could  not  be  found. 

They  were  fond  of  the  young  Doctor  before,  but  now 
they  were  enthusiastic  in  his  praise,  as  never  before. 
He  left  before  it  was  yet  light.  Evelyn  and  his  sister 
were  standing  on  the  gallery,  when  he  came  out  of  the 
sick  chamber.  Going  to  them,  he  said: 

"I  had  better  bid  you  both  good-bye,  as  I  will  not 
see  you  again  in  some  weeks.  I  am  going  this  morning 
to  the  river  to  embark  for  the  city  to  attend  the  State 
Medical  Association,  which  convenes  there  next  week; 
from  there  I  will  go  over  into  Mississippi,  and  will  not 
return  until  I  come  back  with  Captain  Singleton  to  his 
marriage."  He  kissed  Fannie,  and  extended  his  hand 


234  Under  the  Magnolias. 

to  Evelyn.  She  gave  him  hers,  and  the  pressure  of  that 
parting  clasp  lingered  tenderly  with  her  for  many  days, 
and  helped  her  to  endure  the  dull,  lonely  weeks  that 
followed.  Had  she  but  seen  the  look  that  accompanied 
it,  she  would  have  been  happier,  but  darkness  veiled 
that  from  her. 

"I  did  not  know  that  your  brother  was  going  away, 
Fannie.  You  have  never  mentioned  it  to  me." 

"No,  I  did  not  know  myself,  that  he  was  going  so 
soon.  I  heard  him  say  some  time  ago,  that  he  would 
attend  the  Medical  Association  in  New  Orleans,  but  did 
not  think  that  he  would  leave  before  next  week.  How 
ever,  I  do  remember  now,  that  I  heard  him  say  some 
thing  of  a  letter  from  Mr.  Willingham,  asking  him  to 
come  down  to  the  city  to  meet  him  on  business.  So  I 
guess  that  is  why  he  is  hurrying  off  so  much  earlier 
than  he  intended,"  and  Fannie  fell  to  wondering  what 
her  brother  and  Mr.  Willingham  could  have  to  interest 
them  in  common.  Eivals  for  the  love  of  the  same 
woman,  and  yet  such  friends!  It  seemed  an  anoma 
lous  situation.  Evelyn's  thoughts  ran  a  good  deal  in 
the  same  channel,  though  she,  too,  made  no  comment. 

They  went  home  after  an  early  breakfast,  and  were 
both  of  them  in  a  mood  to  enjoy  the  ozone  breezes  that 
blew  down  the  long  corridors  of  pines,  whose  brown 
trunks  formed  the  lofty  columns  that  supported  the 
canopy  of  everlasting  green,  in  these  temples  of  God's 
own  creating. 

The  valleys  and  hillsides  were  clothed  in  Springtime 
verdure;  and  if,  in  every  flower's  ear  there  shone  a 
pearl,  still  more  brilliantly  flashed  a  diamond  on  every 


Conclusion.  235 

swaying  blade  of  grass.  'The  cooing  sound  of  a  dove's 
soft  note,  in  plaintive  minor  key,  was  answered  by  the 
cheery  whistle  of  a  partridge  in  a  field  near  by.  Even 
the  lowing  of  the  cattle  on  the  hills  was  softened  by 
the  distance.  The  pine  trees  kept  up  their  ceaseless 
orchestra,  now  swelling  loud,  or  moaning  low  as  the 
green  keys  were  swept  by  the  fairy  fingers  of  the  morn 
ing  breezes. 

"When  I  walk  through  a  pine  forest,  it  gives  me  al 
ways  a  feeling  of  deep  melancholy.  These  grand  old 
trees  that  consumed  ages  in  development,  make  us  feel 
solemnly,  the  brevity  of  our  own  lives.  Aren't  they 
grand,  Fannie,  those  tall  longleaf  pine  trees?"  asked 
Evelyn,  as  they  paused  a  moment  on  the  summit  of  a 
hill,  and  looked  back  over  the  way  they  had  come. 

"Yes,"  replied  Fannie,  "but  isn't  their  song  a  sad 
one?  I  used  to  think  when  we  were  children,  Laurie, 
and  Mai,  and  I,  that  they  were  playing  the  dead  march 
for  the  Indian  chiefs,  who  had  lived  in  their  camps 
under  these  same  trees.  I  think  it  was  Laurie's  idea, 
though,  and  not  mine,  originally.  He  used  always  to 
be  playing  chief,  and  had  his  following  of  the  little 
negroes  on  the  place,  who  were  his  warriors/'  Fannie 
said,  reminiscently. 

"How  pleasant  it  must  be  for  one  to  have  a  brother 
and  sister,  Fannie." 

"Well,  am  I  not  as  good  as  a  sister  to  you,  Evelyn, 
and  have  I  not  repeatedly  offered  myself  in  that  ca 
pacity  for  your  acceptance  ?  I  can't  offer  you  a  brother 
in  Laurie,  for  he  would  indignantly  repudiate  the  rela 
tionship,  craving  as  he  does,  a  very  much  nearer  and 


236  Under  the  Magnolias. 

dearer  one,"  and  Fannie  looked  in  the  direction  of  her 
target.  Evelyn's  face  was  a  study. 

The  remainder  of  the  distance  was  walked  in  silence 
by  the  girls,  and  in  a  few  minutes  after,  they  entered 
the  gate  at  The  Kefuge. 

"You  will  stay  with  me  to-day,  won't  you,  Fannie?" 
asked  Evelyn. 

"No,  thank  you,  dear,  not  if  you  will  lend  me  the 
'Tuckapaw,'  to  ride  home.  Mother  will  not  send  for 
me  until  later,  and  I  wish  to  go  right  away." 

"Certainly,  my  dearest,  and  we  will  go  and  catch  him 
immediately  for  you  if  you  wish,"  Evelyn  replied,  and 
they  went  out  to  the  lot  to  find  him. 

"Evelyn,  where  is  Hynda  ?  I  have  not  seen  her  in  a 
week,"  questioned  Fannie. 

"Nor  I.  I  begin  to  fear  that  Doctor  Montgomery's 
caution  to  me  was  not  altogether  useless,  and  that  I  will 
never  see  my  beautiful  little  pet  again,"  and  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"When  my  first  pet  deer  left  me,  I  was  inconsolable 
and  wept  freely  over  my  loss.  I  was  only  nine  years 
old,  you  must  remember,"  said  Fannie. 

"Which  remark  means,  that  as  I  have  arrived  at  the 
dignified  age  of  twenty-two,  it  is  not  expected  that  I 
shall  disgrace  that  maturity  by  shedding  any  tears  over 
my  lost  Hynda;  eh,  Fannie?"  and  Evelyn  smiled 
through  her  tears. 

•Terhaps  if  we  ever  take  that  long  talked  of,  and 
long  deferred  deer  hunt,  the  dogs  will  'jump'  Hynda 
first  one,"  laughed  Fannie. 


Conclusion.  237 

"Well,  then,  I  shall  never  go,  never !"  and  the  soft 
eyes  flashed  as  Fannie  had  never  seen  them  do  before. 

"Dear,  gentle  little  Evelyn,  I  did  not  know  you  could 
look  so  dangerously  savage.  Did  you  ever  treat  Mr. 
Willingham  to  such  a  glance?"  Fannie  asked,  laughing 
heartily  at  Evelyn's  indignant  look. 

"By  the  way,  Fannie,  that  gentleman  pretended  to 
be  very  much  surprised  that  I  did  not  have  a  pet  alli 
gator,  a  glossy  black  pickaninny  for  a  page,  and  strang 
est  of  all,  not  even  a  pet  mocking  bird.  Only  such 
common-place  pets  as  fawns  and  Attakapas  ponies," 
and  Evelyn  patted  the  last  named  little  fellow  and 
leaned  her  head  against  his  glossy  coal 

Fannie  remarked  as  she  rode  away,  "Evelyn,  we 
shall  expect  you  to  spend  a  great  deal  of  your  time  with 
us  now  that  Laurie  is  away,  for  we  will  be  so  lonely, 
and  Marion  so  soon  to  leave  us,  too.  You  will,  won't 
you?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  I  will  stay  with  you,  as  I  always  do, 
a  great  deal,  Fannie,"  she  answered. 

The  weeks  that  followed  were  busy  ones  at  the  Mont 
gomery's.  Marion's  trosseau  had  all  to  be  made  at 
home,  and  for  many  months,  deft  fingers  had  been  busy 
making  tatting,  crochet,  embroidery  and  drawnwork 
to  adorn  the  dainty  lingerie  of  the  bride-elect.  There 
was  not  an  article  in  that  wardrobe,  but  was  conse 
crated  by  some  pleasant,  or  tender  memory  of  loving 
conversation,  held  while  seated  around  the  table  sewing. 
Evelyn  spent  much  time  with  them,  which  she  would 
not  have  done  if  Laurie  had  been  there. 

When  Evelyn  had  told  Fannie  of  her  rejection  of 


238  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Arthur  Willingham's  suit,  she  had  concluded  by  re 
marking  : 

"I  do  not  consider  him  inconsolable,  not  hopelessly 
so  at  all.  I  think  some  favored  fair  one  will  easily  catch 
his  heart  in  the  rebound.  I  think  his  love  for  me  was 
only  a  fancy,  fostered  by  Marguerite's  fondness  for  her 
old  chum  of  college  days,"  and  nothing  more  on  the 
subject  was  ever  mentioned. 

With  the  marriage  day  came  Laurie  and  Captain 
Singleton.  The  former  brought  with  him  the  orange 
blossoms;  Nature's  own  fragrant  offering  to  bedeck  the 
brow  of  the  blushing  young  woman. 

Marion  was  a  beautiful  bride  as  she  stood  beside  her 
chosen  husband,  whose  empty  sleeve  hung  with  a  pa 
thetic  droop,  that  gave  him  an  interest  for  all,  that 
nothing  else  can  so  give  a  man. 

Evelyn  had  not  met  Laurie  since  the  night  they  had 
parted  at  Mrs.  Bliss's.  She  came  into  the  parlor  just 
before  the  bridal  party  were  ushered  in.  She  looked 
almost  as  delicate  as  the  white  roses  she  wore  upon  her 
breast  and  in  her  hair. 

There  was  one  who  watched  her  with  deepest  interest 
as  she  entered  the  room,  and  his  heart  throbbed  with 
pleasure  and  pain,  strangely  mingled,  as  he  noticed  how 
thin  and  pale  she  looked. 

As  soon  as  the  ceremony  was  performed  that  made 
his  sister  the  wife  of  Captain  Singleton,  and  the  con 
gratulations  that  followed  were  over,  Laurie  made  his 
way  to  Evelyn's  side. 

"Are  you  quite  well  ?"  he  inquired  of  her. 

"Quite  well,  thank  you,  Doctor  Montgomery ;  but  why 


Conclusion.  239 

do  you  ask?  Do  I  look  ill?"  she  replied,  with  an 
amused  smile. 

"You  look  very  beautiful,  but  distressingly  pale,"  he 
answered,  with  a  look  that  brought  the  color  in  a  wave 
to  her  face. 

Supper  was  now  announced  and  an  old-fashioned, 
well-laden  table  was  displayed  in  the  dining-room. 
There  was  no  attempt  at  formality  and  everyone  was 
as  merry  and  delightfully  unconventional  as  it  is  pos 
sible  to  be  on  such  occasions.  Each  of  the  bachelors 
and  maidens  present,  carried  away,  as  souvenir,  a  bit 
of  the  bride's  cake  done  up  in  fancy  tissue  paper,  to 
"dream  on." 

After  supper  they  returned  to  the  parlor  and  amused 
themselves  in  various  ways.  At  last  Laurie  found  time 
to  take  Evelyn  for  a  promenade  in  the  moonlighted 
garden,  down  the  path  by  the  gardenia  bushes,  now 
sending  forth  their  exhalation  of  overpowering  per 
fume.  They  rambled  on  down  to  where  a  rustic  seat 
was  temptingly  vacant  under  a  spreading  magnolia 
tree.  The  white  moonlight  fell  in  fretted  brightness 
through  the  dark  green  foliage,  and  over  all  was  the 
stillness  and  hush  of  the  night. 

To  them  both  came  an  overpowering  sense  of  being 
alone,  for  the  first  time  since  that  memorable  evening 
when  her  father  came  so  unexpectedly  into  the  room. 
Laurie  first  broke  the  silence  that  had  fallen  between 
them. 

"I  have  so  much  to  tell  you  in  a  business  way,  that  I 
will  have  to  make  an  engagement  to  meet  you  to-mor 
row,  and  discuss  it  all.  It  is  on  the  subject  of  your  pet 


240  Under  the  Magnolias. 

scheme,  you  know,  the  training  school  for  the  young 
negroes  around  here,"  Laurie  said  in  a  happy  tone. 

"I  hope  it  is  something  cheering,  for  I  had  almost 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  you  had  forgotten  all  about 
it.  But  then  I  have  not  met  you  alone  before  in  so  long 
a  time,"  she  replied  a  little  reproachfully. 

"I  wonder  whose  fault  it  has  been,"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  that  shook  with  suppressed  passion,  "not  mine, 
surely,  that  another  came  between  us,  to  claim  the  love 
I  so  fondly  and  foolishly  hoped  was  mine  ?" 

"Why  do  you  say  foolishly?"  she  asked,  timidly. 

"Oh,  Evelyn,  you  do  not  know  how  miserable  I  have 
been  since  Willingham  first  came  between  us,  to  take 
from  me,  as  I  then  believed  he  did,  that  which  I  value 
more  than  life — your  love,  my  darling,"  and  he  caught 
the  trembling  hand  and  imprisoned  it  in  his  strong 
clasp. 

"I  never  loved  Mr.  Willingham  a  moment  and  you 
had  no  right  to  believe  it  without  hearing  from  me," 
she  responded  gently;  but  she  did  not  withdraw  her 
hand  from  his. 

"Evelyn,  will  you  give  yourself  to  me;  will  you  be 
my  wife,  dearest?  I  have  loved  you  ever  since  I  first 
looked  into  your  dark  eyes.  Now  answer  all  my  ques 
tions  with  a  sweet,  inclusive  'yes/ '' 

"Well,  then,"  she  answered  softly,  "yes." 

"Evelyn,  you  cannot  be  half  so  happy  as  I,  for  you 
knew  all  the  while  that  I  loved  you,  while  I,  from  the 
evidence  of  my  own  eyes,  thought  you  were  engaged  to 
Mr.  Willingham.  I  knew  no  better  until  he  told  me, 


Conclusion.  .241 

himself,  in  New  Orleans  of  his  summary  dismissal  by 
you,"  said  Laurie,  kissing  the  hand  he  held  in  his. 

"I  did  not  know  you  loved  me.  I  had  good  reason  to 
think  otherwise,  after  you  treated  me  so  shockingly, 
with  your  haughty  coldness,  Laurie/'  answered  Evelyn 
tenderly,  accentuating  his  name,  called  for  the  first 
time  without  his  title. 

For  answer  he  put  his  hand  under  her  chin,  and 
drawing  the  sweet  face  to  him,  imprinted  a  tender  kiss 
on  the  red  lips. 

"Could  you  have  seen  the  crushed  love  trying  to  hide 
behind  that  lofty  bearing,  and  the  agony  of  soul  I  en 
dured,  after  I  saw  you  and  Willingham  on  sunset  hill 
that  afternoon,  in,  as  I  then  believed,  the  attitude  of 
lovers,  you  would  forgive  me,  dearest,  for  all  the  foolish 
things  I  did.  You  will  forgive  me  now,  won't  you?" 
he  replied. 

"Yes,  of  course  I  will,  and  ask  your  pardon  in  return 
if  I  did  anything  wrong  in  regard  to  you,"  she  re 
sponded,  sweetly. 

"You  did  nothing  wrong;  Fate,  aided  by  Jealousy 
did  the  troublesome  thing  for  us.  But,  darling,  it  is 
all  past,  now,  the  distrust,  and  the  coldness — God  grant 
that  never  a  touch  of  it  may  ever  darken  our  lives 
again,"  Laurie  answered,  impressively,  as  he  held  her 
for  a  moment  close  to  his  heart, 

"I  never  felt  any  relief  to  my  sufferings  until  Fannie 
took  pity  on  my  mute  agony  and  told  me,  the  day  be 
fore  I  left,  that  she  was  certain  that  you  had  rejected 
Willingham,  poor  fellow,"  Laurie  resumed,  as  they 
rose  to  return  to  the  house,  "and  sent  him  back  North, 


242  Under  the  Magnolias. 

a  wiser,  and,  I  guess,  a  great  deal  sadder  man.  How 
ever,  I  feel  quite  kindly  toward  Willingham  now,  which 
I  cannot  say  I  always  did." 

"I  do  not  think  Arthur  is  altogether  inconsolable.  I 
have  good  reason  to  believe  that  Fannie,  sweet  child, 
holds  the  key  to  a  cure  for  his  wounded  heart.  I  do 
hope  it  will  become  an  accomplished  fact  in  the  near 
future,  for  I  think  Arthur  a  noble  man,  though  he  was 
quite  wild  in  his  university  days,"  Evelyn  replied. 

"You  will  think  still  more  highly  of  him  when  I  tell 
you  what  I  know  of  his  generosity ;  but  it  is  too  long  a 
story  for  this  time,  and  I  have  time  for  nothing  now 
but  to  revel  in  the  sweet  knowledge  that  you  love  me, 
my  beautiful  little  woman.  I  will  take  you  home  to 
night  and  ask  your  father's  consent  to  our  union,  which 
must  take  place  at  an  early  day.  Are  you  going  to  let 
me  have  my  own  sweet  way  in  this  important  matter?" 
he  asked  as  he  looked  at  his  watch  by  a  stream  of  light 
that  issued  from  the  open  parlor  door.  They  had  just 
been  out  an  hour.  Such  a  perfect,  happy  hour  seldom 
comes  to  man  but  once  in  a  lifetime. 

When  the  guests  were  all  departed,  Laurie  took 
Evelyn  to  where  Marion  and  her  husband  stood  a  little 
apart,  and  said,  in  his  straightforward,  manly  fashion: 

"Marion,  as  you  and  Captain  Singleton  will  leave 
early  in  the  morning,  and  will  not  have  another  op 
portunity  of  seeing  Evelyn,  I  will  present  her  to  you 
as  a  claimant  for  a  sister's  love.  I  know  that  you  al 
ready  love  her  as  one." 

"Oh,  Evelyn,  darling,  is  it  really  true?  Nothing 
could  have  happened  that  adds  so  much  to  my  happi- 


Conclusion.  243 

ness  as  this,  that  you  two  are  blest  with  each  others' 
love.  I  congratulate  you,  Laurie  dearest,  on  the  bliss 
that  is  shining  in  your  face,"  while  the  Captain  added 
his  graceful  congratulations  to  those  of  his  wife. 

"Does  Fannie  know  of  it  yet  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"No,  we  will  acquaint  her  later  with  the  happy 
event,"  said  the  proud  lover. 

"I  suppose,  Laurie,  that  we  will  ere  long  have  an 
excuse  to  return  to  Louisiana  in  the  form  of  a  wedding 
card,"  asked  the  Captain,  laughing. 

"Yes,  but  as  we  have  not  yet  settled  that  important 
matter,  I  cannot  tell  you  when  it  will  come  off,"  Laurie 
responded,  as  Fannie  came  up  with  them. 

"Fancy,  will  it  console  you  any  for  the  loss  of 
Marion,  if  I  offer  you  another  sister  in  the  person  of 
Evelyn?"  he  asked,  turning  to  her. 

"Oh,  Laurie !  Evelyn !  is  it  true  that  you  two  have 
come  to  your  senses,  at  last,  and  cleared  away  the  mists 
that  gave  you  so  much  trouble  and  unhappiness?  As 
for  you,  Evelyn,  you  know  that  I  cannot  love  you  any 
more  than  I  do  already,"  and  Fannie  kissed  her  rap 
turously. 

If  Evelyn  had  ever  doubted  the  love  and  esteem  in 
which  she  was  held  by  the  Montgomery  family,  ahe 
never  doubted  again  after  Mrs.  Montgomery's  affection 
ate  embrace,  and  the  Doctor's  heartfeld,  "God  bless  you, 
my  children." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Melton  were  perfectly  satisfied  with 
their  daughter's  choice;  and  when  later  it  was  decided 
that  the  young  couple  would  reside  at  Doctor  Montgom- 


244  Under  the  Magnolias. 

ery's,  their  hearts  were  full  of  gratitude  to  God,  that 
their  one  child  would  be  always  near  them. 

The  morning  after  the  marriage,  Marion  and  her 
husband  left  The  Magnolias,  and  after  the  bridal  tour, 
were  comfortably  settled  in  their  own  home  in  Missis 
sippi. 

True  to  promise,  Laurie  went  next  day  to  The  Refuge, 
and  after  a  tender  greeting,  remarked: 

"I  believe  I  told  you  that  I  would  make  this  visit  one 
strictly  of  business;  did  I  not?"  and  mischief  and  love 
struggled  for  ascendency  in  the  handsome  grey  eyes. 

"No,  you  did  not  say  so;  you  only  intimated  as 
much/'  she  answered,  smiling  sweetly  up  at  him,  "and 
therefore,  we  will  proceed  immediately  to  business. 
But  first  be  seated,  pray,  unless  you,  man  fashion,  pre 
fer  to  take  the  floor  and  allow  me  to  act  as  an  en 
thusiastic  and  interested  'audience.' " 

"Suppose  we  invite  your  father  and  mother  to  swell 
your  'audience'  by  their  presence,  and  after  the  business 
meeting  is  over,  you  will  be  a  dutiful  little  woman  and 
reward  me  for  my  devotion  to  your  plans,  by  saying  a 
whole  lot  of  sweet  things  to  me;  won't  you?"  and  he 
led  her  to  the  door  and  opened  it  for  her. 

She  did  not  remain  out  long,  but  soon  came  back 
with  her  parents.  After  the  usual  exchange  of  senti 
ment  in  regard  to  the  state  of  the  weather,  Laurie  came 
at  once  to  the  point: 

"Of  course,  you  know  something  of  Evelyn's  feelings 
on  the  subject  of  a  school  for  the  training  of  the  young 
negroes  of  this  section,  and  also  know  of  our  inability 


Conclusion.  245 

in  the  past  to  cope  successfully  with  this  problem,  be 
cause  of  the  lack  of  means  to  carry  our  plans  into  exe 
cution.  Mr.  Willingham  has  nobly  come  to  the  rescue, 
and  promised  me  all  the  money  I  need  to  carry  out 
Evelyn's  plans,"  and  he  looked  into  the  eyes  that  were 
filling  fast  with  tears  of  delight  and  gratitude. 

"Don't  say  'my  plans,'  please;  I  did  not  have  any 
plans.  I  only  looked  to  you  for  help  in  it  all.  I  never 
advanced  so  far  as  to  plan,"  protested  Evelyn,  meekly. 

"She  asked  me  to  aid  and  advise  her  in  the  scheme  so 
dear  to  her  humane  heart,  and  I,  of  course,  promised 
her  all  the  assistance  in  my  power  for  the  furtherance 
of  an  object  for  which  I  have  felt  the  deepest  solicitude 
myself.  I  did  not  dream  of  Willingham's  co-operation 
when  I  told  him  of  your  distress  at  witnessing  the  holy 
dance  at  Greengrove  church. 

"But  God,  who  can  bend  the  proud  heart  of  man  to 
execute  His  will,  made  our  young  friend  the  instru 
ment  with  which  He  fashioned  the  answer  to  our  pray 
ers.  Willingham,  with  a  confidence  that  is  very  flat 
tering  to  me,  has  placed  the  money  entirely  at  my  dis 
posal,  and  I  am  going  to  ask  the  assistance  of  you,  Mr. 
Bliss,  and  Mr.  Hynson  as  trustees  of  this  fund.  I  know 
that  you  will  be  willing  to  do  all  in  your  power  to  ad 
vance  the  interest  of  the  school,"  and  Laurie  looked 
gravely  at  his  prospective  father-in-law. 

"You  are  right  in  conjecturing  that,  and  I  hope  you 
will  find  on  experience  that  your  confidence  in  us  has 
not  been  misplaced,  Doctor,"  replied  Mr.  Melton  with  a 
slight  tremor  in  his  voice.  He  was  deeply  moved  by 


246  Under  the  Magnolias. 

the  attitude  taken  by  the  young  doctor;  so  different  in 
every  way  from  what  he,  in  his  narrow-minded,  sec 
tional  life  in  New  England,  could  have  believed  possi 
ble  for  a  Southern  man  to  take.  He  often  felt  that  he 
owed  his  Southern  brothers  an  apology  for  his  entirely 
false  views  of  them.  As  for  the  young  physician,  he 
loved  and  honored  him  beyond  expression. 

"I  think,"  resumed  Laurie,  "that  we  can  perfect  our 
plans  and  carry  them  into  execution  in  time  to  open 
the  school  by  the  first  of  October.  Father  will  give  the 
land  necessary  to  locate  the  buildings,  and  the  negroes 
will  be  willing  to  devote  the  whole  summer  to  the  work, 
if  necessary  to  its  completion.  I  am  going  to  make 
them. do  all  they  can  to  aid  in  the  undertaking.  They 
are  very  enthusiastic  people  and  will  be  completely  car 
ried  away  at  the  idea  of  such  a  school  for  them  out  here," 
Laurie  said  with  the  heartiness  that  characterized  him 
in  everything  in  which  he  took  a  part. 

"How  good!  how  kind  of  you!"  exclaimed  Evelyn 
with  emotion,  "how  worse  than  foolish — how  chimerical, 
I  was — to  ever  dream  that  I  could  do  such  a  thing." 

"You  have  done  it  all,  Evelyn,"  he  said,  tenderly,  "it 
was  your  influence  that  has  accomplished  it  through 
Willingham.  I  do  not  know  when  I  should  have  col 
lected  sufficient  fortune  to  carry  my  plans  into  execu 
tion." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Melton,  "it  is  a  splendid  scheme  you 
two  young  men  have  gotten  up;  and  your  kindness  in 
being  willing  to  devote  any  of  your  time,  which  is 
already  so  fully  occupied,  is  noble  indeed.  Your  knowl- 


Conclusion.  247 

edge  of  the  situation  and  needs  of  the  negro,  is  as  neces 
sary  to  the  success  of  the  undertaking,  as  is  Willing- 
ham's  money.  The  negroes,  too,  have  perfect  confi 
dence  in  you  and  your  father.  I  have  spoken  to  a  great 
many  of  them  since  I  have  been  here,  and  they  one  and 
all  seem  to  respect  and  fear  as  well  as  love  you." 

Laurie  was  quite  well  pleased  with  Mr.  Melton's  ap 
proval  of  his  plans,  and  he  remarked  in  conclusion : 

"The  teachers  were  selected  while  I  was  in  the  city. 
I  made  Mr.  Willingham  lend  his  assistance  on  that  im 
portant  task.  They  are  colored  men  of  education  and 
good  sense.  There  is  nothing  to  be  taught  but  a  plain 
English  course  and  useful  trades  to  both  sexes.  I 
thought  that  it  would  be  best  to  put  Tenah,  mother's 
sewing  woman  of  ante-bellum  days,  to  preside  over  that 
department,  as  she  is  thoroughly  competent  to  fill  the 
place,  and  will  cost  less  than  a  city  woman.  Tenah,  too, 
is  such  a  dear  good  old  thing,  I  would  be  glad  to  get  her 
in  a  good  place.  I  wish  to  make  good  morals  a  special 
feature  in  our .  curriculum.  I  shall  take  great  interest 
in  watching  the  results  of  our  first  efforts  in  the  devel 
opment  of  such  of  them  as  are  apt  to  learn.  Some  of 
them  I  believe  are  so  dull  that  they  will  never  get  above 
the  first  reader  in  this  generation,  but  their  children  will 
be  that  much  higher  to  begin  life.  I  have  made  a  spe 
cial  provision  for  those  who  cannot  attend  the  day 
school,  by  arranging  to  have  a  series  of  night  classes  for 
all  who  work  through  the  day,  as  Monk  for  instance, 
who  is  very  anxious  to  learn,  yet  cannot  give  up  his 
means  of  earning  his  living. 


248  Under  the  Magnolias. 

"I  do  not  wish  to  make  a  heavier  draw  on  Willing- 
ham's  generosity  than  is  absolutely  necessary/'  Laurie 
continued,  and  ere  long  the  conversation  drifted  to  other 
things,  and  soon  father  and  mother  left  the  room  to  the 
lovers.  As  the  door  closed  behind  them,  Evelyn  turned 
to  Laurie  and  asked: 

"Have  you  seen  the  letter  which  Fannie  received  from 
Arthur  while  he  was  in  the  city;  or  perhaps  I  am  be 
traying  confidence  in  telling  you  of  it?" 

"No,  I  have  not  read  it  for  the  reason  that  I  have  not 
had  time  to  read  anything  since  I  got  home,  you  know," 
and  Laurie  imprisoned  the  hand  that  was  lying  idly  on 
Evelyn's  lap  and  began  to  slip  on  the  third  small  finger 
a  ring.  "No,  I  am  quite  sure  Fannie  will  never  keep 
anything  secret  from  me,  and  I  know  she  carries  all.  her 
letters  for  mother's  inspection.  We  have  always  done 
that,  you  know,  dearest." 

"I  am  so  anxious  for  Mr.  Willingham  to  transfer  to 
our  dear  Fairy  the  heart  I  think  he  only  imagined  he 
had  given  me  at  the  first.  I  believe  he  will,  if  he  has 
not  already  done  so,"  Evelyn  remarked  as  she  watched 
with  blushing  interest  the  fitting  of  the  pretty,  shining 
ring. 

"Why,  what  reason  have  you  for  thinking  so,  and  do 
you  think  that  Fannie  has  given  her  heart  to  a  man 
whom  she  knew  was  deeply  in  love  with  another  wo 
man?"  Laurie  questioned  with  just  a  touch  of  bitter 
ness  in  his  tone. 

"I  believe  that  Fannie  could  learn  to  love  him  very 
easily  if  he  were  to  love  her,  and  I  think  she  is  so  charm- 


Conclusion.  249 

ing,  so  lovable,  I  do  not  see  how  he  could  prefer  me  to 
her,  long,"  Evelyn  said,  with  unusual  warmth  and  en 
thusiasm. 

"If  you  underrate  yourself  it  will  be  paying  a  poor 
tribute  to  my  taste;  will  it  not,  dearest?"  and  he  held 
up  the  hand  to  catch  the  gleam  of  the  diamond.  Ap 
parently  he  was  satisfied,  for  he  kissed  her  hand  pas 
sionately. 

"Evelyn,  this  was  my  father  and  mother's  engage 
ment  ring,  and  as  theirs  was  a  very  happy  and  loving 
married  life,  I  trust  ours  will  be  the  same.  Mother 
called  me  to  her  room  last  night  and  gave  it  to  me  to 
place  on  this  sweet  hand.  She  cannot  wear  it  now;  in 
fact,  has  not  worn  it  in  many  years.  She  has  always 
said  she  intended  it  for  me.  It  is  a  very  fine  stone,  and 
cost  a  great  deal  of  money,"  and  Laurie  turned  to  her 
and  in  a  voice,  tenderly  pleading,  said: 

"Now  look  into  my  eyes,  darling,  and  tell  me  that  you 
love  me." 

She  did  look  into  his  eyes,  and  then  he  did  not  need 
the  softly  spoken,  "Laurie,  I  love  you  better  than  all  else 
in  life,"  to  know  beyond  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  she 
did  indeed  love  him,  as  he  loved  her,  with  all  the 

strength  of  a  first  and  only  love. 

******* 

Years  have  passed,  and,  with  the  receding  years,  have 
gone  some  of  the  friends  we  met  when  first  we  looked 
into  the  home  Under  The  Magnolias.  A  glance  there 
will  show  us  sweet  Evelyn  Montgomery  as  the  gentle 
mistress  of  that  happy  home. 


25°  Under  the  Magnolias. 

Laurie  is  Doctor  Montgomery  now,  since  the  death  of 
his  father  left  him  sole  practitioner  of  that  now  popu 
lous  and  thriving  neighborhood. 

Fannie,  as  Mrs.  Willingham,  presides  gracefully  over 
her  husband's  elegant  home  in  Boston.  She  often 
spends  her  winters  in  the  genial  climate  of  her  native 
State.  Her  noble  husband  gave,  and  still  gives  gener 
ously,  to  the  school  which  bears  his  name;  which  but 
for  him,  would  never  have  become  the  potent  factor  for 
good  it  has  proved  to  be  in  all  that  section  of  country. 

The  gracious  Christian  mother  of  the  Montgomery 
home  sleeps  beside  the  aged  Doctor  in  the  old  Brierwood 
cemetery. 

Change  is  stamped  on  everything,  and  even  in  the 
kitchen  where  old  Mauma  Silvy  held  sway  we  find  her 
not.  She  too  has  stepped  aside  from  the  busy  scenes  of 
life  and  rests  in  the  graveyard  on  the  hill.  At  The 
Eefuge,  from  which  it  seemed  all  the  light  had  fled 
when  Laurie  Montgomery  bore  away  its  pet  and  darling, 
the  peace  and  quietude  of  a  happy  old  age  is  creeping 
over  its  pious  inmates.  Mr.  Melton  has  proved  conclu 
sively,  that  amid  the  forests  of  Louisiana,  any  honest 
and  industrious  man  can,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  build 
for  himself  and  loved  ones,  a  home  of  plenty,  if  not  of 
wealth.  He  succeeded  when,  past  the  meridian  of  life, 
he  deemed  he  was  too  old  to  begin  anew  in  a  strange 
place,  different,  in  every  way,  from  his  native  State. 

His  old  age  is  crowned  with  plenty  and  happiness. 
His  grandchildren  are  as  dear  to  him,  he  says,  as  Evelyn 
herself.  Often,  in  the  summer  evenings,  they  sit  and 


Conclusion. 


251 


discuss  the  ways  of  Providence  in  leading  them  to  the 
South  and  Evelyn  declares  that  it  was  the  personal 
magnetism  of  Doctor  Laurence  Montgomery  that  at 
tracted  her  to  the  sunny  State  of  Louisiana. 


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